


Adroit Conjuror

by Batwynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, M/M, Mentor Severus Snape, Past Child Abuse, Slytherin Harry, Wandless Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:24:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batwynn/pseuds/Batwynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a strange, angry-looking man and a severe woman arrive on Harry's doorstep, talking about magic, and school, and wands, Harry is brought into a whole new world. A better world, where magic is real, he's surrounded by other kids just like him, and nothing could go wrong. </p><p>Until his first class, when his wand refuses to work. </p><p>Even now, after finally finding a place to belong, Harry is the odd one out. </p><p>( Slytherin!Harry AU. Wandless magic. First book-final book. ** hopefully )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lessons Learned

 

  
  
Harry liked to think he was happy, once. He would lay there, curled up on his cot in the cupboard under the stairs, and imagine happier times. Even with his short stature, he was still too big for the cobweb-ridden space. Not that Harry minded the spiders, they just made him jump when they crawled across his face at night. The cupboard was not in any of his 'good memories'.  
  
Yes, he had to imagine happier times, because he had no happy memories. He had little things, like the rare time Dudley would leave him alone, or when Uncle Vernon bought him a hotdog once. Well, he bought Dudley three hotdogs and gave Harry the third when Dudley couldn't manage to eat it. Those were decent memories, times where he squeaked by fate for just a moment. But Harry simply had no _good_ memories. So he made them up.  
  
He would imagine his mother and father taking him on picnics, to the movies, or even mundane things like cleaning up after dinner together. The last one was the easiest to visualize, since he had never been on a picnic or been to the theatre before. He had cleaned up after dinner, every day since he could reach the taps. In his 'memory', though, he would dry the dishes while his mother washed them. Then his father would help put them away, but only the things that needed to go on the upper shelves. Harry would enjoy it, because they were doing it together. It was fun, and it didn't hurt and tire him out like washing them in real life did.  
  
Harry was turning eleven this year. His birthday was just around the corner, and that meant absolutely _nothing_. There would be no change to his schedule, no break from his chores, and definitely no presents. Growing up, he learned very quickly that he was different from Dudley. Uncle Vernon was there to remind him always of how lucky he was that they took him in. Aunt Petunia would be the one to remind him that he should appreciate that they fed and sheltered him. Dudley reminded him that Harry was a freak, an orphan, and a punching bag. It was pretty much all the same lesson, just with different methods.  
  
Luckily, Harry was fast, and smart. He could read the Dersley's moods much easier as he grew older. He tread carefully when Petunia was in a right mood in the kitchen, tip toeing around as he helped clean up. He found new ways to avoid Dudley, climbing into tress or hiding in the neighbor's bushes until Dudley got bored and went inside again. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to avoid Uncle Vernon's fists quite as easily.  
  
He would always remember the first time Uncle Vernon hit him. It had come as such a surprise, Harry had it burned into his memory. He was seven at the time, and he'd been doing the laundry. One of the first few times he had tried to do it, in fact. So, of course, he made a mistake. It wasn't really his fault, considering no one told him not to put reds and purples in with the whites.  
  
Harry noticed as he was pulling out Vernon's work shirts, that everything that wasn't red, was a nice cheerful pink. So, unsure of what to do, he brought the shirt to Uncle Vernon.  
  
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, BOY?!"  
  
Harry flinched back automatically, the shirt torn from his grasp to be closely inspected by a red faced Vernon.  
  
"I... I did everything the same as last time," Harry tried to explain in a quiet voice.  
  
"Well you did it wrong!" Vernon snapped. "Show me the rest, you bloody idiot!"  
  
Harry rushed down the hall to the laundry machine and stood there nervously as the man started digging through the clothes. As each pink work shirt was dragged out and added to the pile, Uncle Vernon's face grew more and more red.  
  
After a while, he went perfectly still. Harry saw this as a chance to apologize, and shuffled closer to do so. Just as the words were forming in his mouth, his uncle's arm lashed out at him, sending him flying into the window of the back door. The glass cracked, and Harry slid to the floor in a daze. Blood came out in a flood from his nose, and it scared him. He had never seen so much blood before, except when he caught a glimpse of a movie on the television.  
  
He let out a startled whimper and looked up at his uncle. The man was glaring at a spot over his head, his fists clenching and unclenching as if itching to hit Harry again. Instead, he screamed at Harry for breaking things in his house, and sent him to his cupboard with no supper.  
  
Even now, four years later, Vernon would find any excuse to hurt him. Harry has lost count of the times he spent in his cupboard, steaming the blood from a split lip or a busted nose with the sleeve of his shirt. His Uncle let up slightly when school started, but it wasn't as though he was ever asked to explain why Harry came in with blood stained clothes and a bruise here and there. Teachers seemed to pass it off as 'boys being boys'. Harry lost his respect for school and teachers very quickly after the incident with him jumping on the roof.  
  
Of course no one believed that he flew up there. Nor did anyone care why he was up there in the first place. Running away from Dudley and his cronies was apparently as far fetched as flying. It was one of the few things Harry actually learned in school. Trust no one, hide behind a lie or half truth, and don't get caught.  


* * *

  
  
Harry sighed when Aunt Petunia rapped her knuckles on the cupboard door and demanded he get up to fix breakfast. Today was his eleventh birthday, and a Tuesday. That meant beans on toast, sunny-side up eggs, and fried tomatoes. For everyone else, anyway. Harry would usually get a slice of toast, eaten quickly as he prepared food for the others. He did manage to sneak a scrap here and there, but he had to be careful under the hawk-like eyes of Aunt Petunia. He got in trouble before when he snagged a piece of bacon once. Apparently, she had counted the slices beforehand.  
  
Yawning and stretching as far as he could manage in the small space, Harry slipped out of his baggy pajamas into baggier clothes and shuffled his way to the bathroom to wash up. He started breakfast, easily switching between one pan and the other, setting the table, pouring coffee for Vernon, tea for Petunia, and juice for Dudley. Dudley had tried to demand pop a few times before Petunia put a stop to it, claiming it would rot his teeth. That didn't stop her from buying him massive bags of candy every time they went out.  
  
"Are you finished yet?" Petunia hissed over his shoulder, eyeing the tomatoes as they sizzled in the pan.  
  
"Just these and then I'm done."  
  
"Good, eat your breakfast quickly and get outside. There's weeding to be done, and the car needs a good wash."  
  
Harry nodded and turned off the heat, holding back a grumble at his future prospects. Weeding always hurt his knees. His nights were long and painful after a day in the garden. At least cleaning the car would a mild break.  
  
He snagged one slice of tomato and ate it so quickly he burnt his tongue. The family filed into the kitchen, all equally overweight with the exception of Aunt Petunia. Harry secretly wondered if Uncle Vernon and Dudley were, in fact, aliens from another planet who needed twice the amount of food to survive. That would explain so much.  
  
"If you're finished skulking around the kitchen, get outside with you!"  
  
Harry ducked his head and shuffled out the kitchen door. At least the weather had decided to bless his birthday with sun instead of rain. Sometimes fate could be kind.  
  
  
Several hours later and a nice sunburn on the back of his neck, Harry entered the back hall and shook his head. He felt dizzy and a little nauseous, and assumed it was from hunger. Just as he was headed down the hall, Petunia spotted his muddy shoes and had a right fit about it. So, instead of food or rest, Harry was back on his sore knees scrubbing the floor.  
  
"Happy bloody birthday to me," Harry muttered to himself, sloshing soapy water across the floor.  
  
There had been a lot of drama this past week with birds. It had started out as rare and fascinating thing, and turned into a full blown comedy act. The Dursleys had been thoroughly disturbed, and whatever disturbed the Dursleys, made Harry very happy. Sadly, the owl madness had trickled to a stop just yesterday, drawing a shout of triumph from Uncle Vernon. Harry nearly congratulated him for doing absolutely nothing.  
  
  
There was a knock on the front door. It was a quick succession of taps that sounded impatient and determined. Harry sat back on his heels and peered down the hallway to see if his aunt was going to answer it. There was another batch of knocking and no answer. So Harry stood, his knees protesting vocally, and walked towards the door. On his way, he spotted Aunt Petunia watching television in the living room, volume too high to hear anything else.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Harry opened the door.  
  
"I'm sorry, but we don't want any," he said before the door had finished opening.  
  
"I'm afraid I am not giving anything away," a cold voice snapped.  
  
Another voice joined in impatiently, "Now Severus, there's no reason to treat the boy like that."  
  
Harry gaped at the man and woman standing on the front step. Both were dressed in nearly all black, wearing a discombobulation of clothing items that didn't quite go together. Harry wondered vaguely where the woman had even managed to find such a hat in England, let alone this era.  
  
"Can I help you?" He asked, glancing between the two.  
  
"Ah," the woman spoke, "you must be young Harry Potter, then?"  
  
The dark haired man sneered. "Oh he is _definitely_ Potter's son. Look at his hair."  
  
"Severus!"  
  
"You knew my father?" Harry asked, torn between talking to them, and shutting the door in their faces.  
  
"Know him? I wish I hadn't ever—"  
  
"That will be quite enough, professor Snape," the woman interrupted him smoothly, and turned back to address Harry, "we have tried to contact you this past week. It seems none of our correspondence has reached you."  
  
Harry raised and eyebrow and tried to think back at the past week. He had been forbidden to pick up the mail the entire time the owl fiasco was happening. Maybe there had been something for him in mess.  
  
"I'm not allowed to get mail," he replied at last, and frowned. "Were you the ones sending the owls?"  
  
"Why, yes. That was us. Do you know why we were attempting to contact you?"  
  
"Umm... No?"  
  
The woman's stiff smile slipped away, and she shared a worried look with the man beside her.  
  
"We would like you to come with us, so we may explain it," she began wearily, "There isn't much time before the semester begins for you to get all of your school supplies."  
  
"You're from a school? Oh, that's right, you called him a professor." Harry blinked at the man who continued to scowl at him as though Harry was the bug beneath his boot.  
  
"That is correct," the woman agreed, another weak smile slipping Into place. "We both teach at Hogwarts. My name is Professor Mcgonagall and I teach transfiguration."  
  
"Hog...warts?" Harry asked incredulously, "is that _really_ a school? Are you pulling my leg?"  
  
Snape stared at him evenly and took out a stick. Harry eyed the stick nervously, his arms instinctively twitching to protect himself from being hit. When the man lifted the stick, he gave into the urges and ducked down with his arms over his head.  
  
There was a strangled gasp from one of the two above him and then a long silence. He decide it was safe enough to peek out at them, and he did. The man was holding the stick loosely at his side and was looking down at Harry with a strangely revolted expression. Professor Mcgonagall had gone pale, one hand covering her mouth in surprise. They stayed like that even as Harry unfurled him self and stood up straight again, swaying slightly as the dizziness from before returned.  
  
"What the bloody hell was that?!" Snape hissed, sounding less threatening now then he did the entire conversation thus far. He sounded pained and surprised.  
  
Harry shuffled his feet and looked anywhere but at him. "I thought... well, you had a stick... I mean, it's not a very big stick o'course but it still might had hurt if you..." He trailed off helplessly, his cheeks reddening.  
  
"You thought I was going to hit you with my wand?"  
  
The woman next to him shifted uncomfortably and watched Harry with concerned eyes.  
  
"That's what it seem— hang on, wand?" Harry's head jerked up, his eyes widening. "That's a _wand_?"  
  
"Of course it is, we aren't all stick carrying muggles, as seems to be the latest fashion," the man said, his sneer returning. There was still a hint of something in his eyes that lead Harry to believe that the nastiness was a front.  
  
"I don't know what a muggle is, but carrying a wand is just as weird as carrying a stick."  
  
"Oh Merlin," Snape breathed, looking at Mcgonagall next to him with an exasperated face. "He doesn't know."  
  
"Thank you, I believe I noticed," the woman replied curtly. "Perhaps you should show him what you were going to a moment ago?"  
  
Harry glanced back at the hall once, and heard the television still blaring. They were safe, for now. He turned back around and watched the dark-haired man warily.  
  
Snape flicked his wand and muttered something under his breath. A duck appeared in front of them and floated around Harry in little circles before disappearing with pop. Harry gaped at the spot where it vanished.  
  
"That, what? You... a duck?!"  
  
He looked up to see the man smiling ever so faintly. "Yes, Potter. We are wizards who can conjure things such a ducks."  
  
Mcgonagall sniffed from beside him and muttered, "why a _duck_ of all things?"  
  
Snape shot her a look and opened his mouth to say something before he was interrupted.  


* * *

  
  
" _HARRY_!" Came a screeching voice from the hallway.  
  
Harry flinched, his eyes going wide with fear. Snape stared at him, recognizing the expression before the boy's Aunt Petunia yanked the door open wider and pushed the boy inside.  
  
"We don't want whatever you're selling and we are very happy with what be believe in!" Petunia rattled off the usual speech.  
  
"We are here to bring Mr. Potter to school, as we tried to say in our letters," Mcgonagall said, her voice becoming sharp. "We had hoped one of them had reached him so he would be prepared."  
  
Aunt Petunia looked her over once before she froze, her eyes growing wide. "N-no... not you lot," she breathed, "get out of here, we don't want _your_ kind around the house!"  
  
Snape gave her a very unimpressed look before his eyes fell on Harry, pressed against the hallway wall looking terrified. The boy glanced at him nervously, his eyes slightly glazed over. Enough was enough.  
  
"Mrs. Dursley, we will be taking him to the school, where he will learn to be one of 'our kind'," Snape said with a nasty smirk, "he will return here for the summer and winter holidays until he has completed his education."  
  
Snape turned to the boy and addressed him, "Go pack your things now."  
  
Mcgonagall gave him a look that promised words later, and turned to speak to Harry as well. "Do you need any assistance in packing?"  
  
Harry shook his head and glanced back at his aunt who was making wordless sputtering noises in protest. He seemed to decide it was safe, and darted down the hallway to the side of the staircase. Snape peered around the skinny woman, wondering where the boy was going. When he disappeared under the stairs, something clicked.  
  
"Is that where he... sleeps?" He asked, painfully aware of the way his voice shook a little.  
  
The woman sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "Of course. There is plenty of room under there."  
  
Mcgonagall let out a small choking sound and stared down the hallway, waiting for the boy to reappear.  
  
" _Move_ ," Snape growled at Petunia.  
  
"You are not coming into my house!" The woman nearly shrieked.  
  
"Move or I shall move you myself."  
  
The woman shuddered, her eyes growing narrow. She shifted to one side and squawked when Snape brushed past her roughly. He reached the cupboard in less than a moment and peeked into the small room.  
  
Harry had jumped at the sound from behind him and whipped himself around.  
  
"I'm sorry!" Were the first words out if his mouth before arms went up, yet again, to protect himself.  
  
The sight made Snape feel sick to his stomach. "There is no need to apologize to me, Potter."  
  
Harry let his arms drop and nodded nervously, turning back to his packing in small, jerky movements. Snape's eyes moved around the room, deliberately slow, taking in everything he saw and storing it away for later. It was far too small, much to dirty, and not fit for an animal to live in. He swallowed the nausea and stopped back, taking a deep breath. He was going to have to speak to Dumbledore about this.  
  
"Umm," Harry mumbled, "I'm all set, sir."  
  
"You have everything?"  
  
Harry smiled sheepishly and held up a backpack. "Not much to pack, I'm 'fraid."  
  
"I see," Snape agreed and stepped back to let the boy out of the cupboard. He watched the boy give the room a final look over before a small look of triumph flashed over his face. Snape smiled despite himself, please to see something hopeful in the boy. He may have hated Harry's father, but he was finding it difficult to take it out on him. Perhaps it was the fact that the boy had his mother's eyes. Or that his situation reminded Snape all too much of his own past. He shuddered a little and shook away the memories itching to come to life once again.  
  
"Come along, you have a lot to learn," he said at last, ushering the boy past a still sputtering Aunt Petunia.

* * *

  
  
Everything went by in a mad blur of sights and sounds. Harry found he disliked aperating almost as much as weeding, if not more. He had the unfortunate combination of sun sickness and his first try at magical traveling that caused him to vomit when they reappeared elsewhere. He had been embarrassed for the rest of the day, regardless of their assurances that it was common.  
  
He wasn't completely focused on the event, seeing as he spent the next few hours being introduced to wizarding world. They had brought him to a street Harry had never seen before, leading the way through what seemed to be an ordinary wall. It took a lot of effort to bring himself to walk through it. But once he did, he found that the wall was the least amazing thing he would lay eyes on that day.  
  
The bank was fascinating to Harry. He had never been in a normal bank before, and this one certainly would have taken the cake in comparison. Harry didn't enjoy the cart ride as much as he would have without the sun sickness. He did manage to not vomit, this time. They showed him to a volt full of strange coins and told him it was all his. After several minutes of arguing that it was impossible, his parents never left him anything, and that he didn't even know what it all was, he finally took the sack of coins Snape shoved in his hands. On the way up, Harry had hoped to see a dragon, but was pleased all the same to spot a giant entering a volt on his own. He nearly asked professor Snape if he was a customer or if he guarded the volts, but he noticed the professor's tight lipped expression and decided against it.  
  
After that, it was shopping. Something he had never done in the real world, never mind shopping for wizard items. Snape had left them for a bit to go 'cure himself of Gringotts'. So Mcgonagalll lead him around the shops, telling him what he would need. She seemed pleased with everything until they reached the pet shop.  
  
"Are you _sure_ you don't want a cat?" She asked, her voice clearly disappointed.  
  
"I'm sure," Harry said with an apologetic smile. "If I'm going to write to anyone, I'll need an Owl."  
  
She nodded in agreement and looked, almost forlornly, at the cats he was leaving behind. Snape joined them again in time for him to get his wand. It had been rather awkward when the man announced how alike Harry's wand was to some lord. He shrugged it off, but the two professors exchanged heavy looks and were quite for a long while afterward.  
  
  
"Now, Mr. Potter," Mcgonagall said, her voice slipping into teacher mode again. "We will bring you to the platform slightly early, seeing as we must return to the school before the students reach it."  
  
Harry nodded and let them lead the way to the muggle train station. He had to admit he was a little less than impressed that they would be taking an average train to a wizarding school, but thought better than to comment on it. Clearly, they knew best.  
  
He should have known, after the wall incident, that it was going to be so much more. After his grand entrance through platform's secret gate, Harry was met with a beautiful sight. He was never one for trains, but if he were, the Hogwarts Express would be at the top of his list. Not that he had a lot of time to enjoy it, as boarding calls were already starting up from the head of the train. Mcgonagall floated his trunk onto the train and settled it on a wrack above his head. Snape gave him a look that could have been reassuring, or maybe just another sneer. Harry waved at them both as the train began to leave. He blinked, and then they were gone.  


* * *

  
  
Harry's compartment didn't stay empty for long. Although, for some reason no one bothered to stay very long. Most of the students were already out searching for people they knew, finding compartments of their own. Harry didn't mind all that much, it saved him the awkward introductions. He had already gotten a few strange looks and whispers when he boarded. There was a red head family that had been rather obvious about it, and Harry had been more careful to avoid them since. So he settled into he compartment, ignoring the last of the students peering in on the search for friends. After a while, people seemed to have settled into their compartments permanently as the train drove on.  
  
Harry had nearly dozed off when the compartment door slid upon with a snap and a drawling voice filled the room.  
  
"So _this_ is where he's got to."  
  
Harry looked up in surprise, unsure as to who the speaker was referring to. The boy was about the same hight as him, with pale skin and shockingly blond hair. Harry had the strangest urge to run his hand through it to be sure it was real.  
  
"I'm sorry?" Harry said, looking around the compartment for the other person the boy must be looking for.  
  
"You _are_ Harry Potter, are you not?" Drawled the blond yet again.  
  
"I am, why?"  
  
The blond boy's expression went from bored to excitement in seconds.  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Draco Malfoy," he said, holding a hand out to him.  
  
Harry blinked in confusion, and shook the hand offered to him. "Harry Potter, as you seem to know."  
  
Malfoy scoffed and sat down across from him, giving him a good look over. "Who doesn't know of you? You do know you're famous, don't you?"  
  
Harry blushed and ducked his head. The two professors had spoken to him about his miraculous survival of a killing curse and what it had meant to the wizarding community. Snape had seemed rather irked about the whole thing until Harry expressed his own distaste for the fame. He was a baby, it wasn't as though he fought bravely. He probably burped up milk and went on doing whatever babies do. The professor had smiled for nearly a minute at that.  
  
"I 'spose I do." Harry looked up and added, "But it's all rubbish anyway."  
  
"Rubbish?" Malfoy asked incredulously, "what, like a pack of lies?"  
  
Harry shook his head and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No, it's not a lie. It's just that... I mean..." He frowned and met the blond's gray eyes. "I didn't actually do anything. I don't see why people care."  
  
Malfoy shrugged and leaned back into his seat. The other two boys that had been behind him had remained lurking in the hall until that point. They took Malfoy's lounging as a sign to join them, one sitting beside the blond and the other next to Harry. He wasn't all that pleased to have the hulking mass near him, he remind him of Dudley.  
  
Malfoy seemed perfectly content to conduct the conversation himself with Harry joining in every so often to ask questions. At some point, a girl stopped by the compartment and asked if any of them had seen a toad. Malfoy had sent her off with a snarky comment, and Harry gave her an apologetic look.  
  
"What was that about?" He asked after she left.  
  
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "How should _I_ know what the mudblood wants."  
  
Harry stared at him in confusion, unsure what the term meant. "Mudblood?"  
  
"Oh, you know, a 'wizard' born from muggles," Malfoy said with a dramatic sigh. "I'm surprised they even let them in to Hogwarts. It's bad enough they let half bloods in."  
  
Harry frowned a bit, realizing that if mudblood was from muggles, then half blood must have meant one parent was a muggle while the other was a wizard.  
  
"I'm a half blood," Harry said in a quiet voice, suddenly afraid of disappointing the boy.  
  
The blond blinked and looked oddly awkward for a moment. "Well, you're allowed of course. You are clearly a powerful wizard."  
  
Harry let out a sigh and leaned  back into his seat at last. "I don't think so. I only learned about being a wizard today."  
  
"That's okay!" Malfoy piped up, "you're doing just fine. Trust me, when you're friends with me, you won't fall behind."  
  
Harry's mouth fell open for a moment before he closed it and swallowed nervously. "Friends?"  
  
A small flash if something crossed Mafloy's expression before the blank look of boredom returned.  
"Of course we are, unless you don't want to be?"  
  
"No, no I do!" Harry amended quickly, sitting up again to meet his eyes with sincerity. "I just... I've never had a friend before."  
  
It was Malfoy's turn for his jaw to drop. " _Never_?! I'm your first friend?"  
  
Harry nodded, ducking his head down in shame. There was an awkward silence before Harry peaked from behind his hair and saw that Malfoy's pale complexion had gone a nice pink. Deciding against commenting on it, Harry gave the boy a moment to gather himself.  
  
Malfoy cleared his throat. "Well, it's an honor to be your first friend. I suppose Crabbe and Goyle can be your second and third friends if you want them."  
  
Harry nodded to the other two boy who had largely been ignoring him for most of the ride. They nodded back and grunted in agreement.  
  
"This calls for a celebration!" The blond shouted, jumping up and running into the hall. Harry blinked at the open door for several minutes before he heard a voice call out for Crabbe. The boy left and returned a minute later, hands full of colored packets and a four bottles of some sort of drink. Crabbe offered one from the crook is his arm to Harry, who took it and thanked him. Malfoy returned a moment later, also burdened with food and candy.  
  
"Everyone dig in, this is our calibration feast," he said, his eyes sparkling. He was taking it much more seriously than Harry would have expected.  
  
"Thank you," Harry said quietly and took the first package he blond offered him. It turned out to be a frog made of chocolate that tried to get away from him as soon as he opened it. After accidentally crushing it on the seat in a lame attempt to catch it, Harry opened another more carefully and bit into it.  
  
After that, he tried one of everything. He enjoyed the drink quite a bit, finding out by way of Malfoy that it was pumpkin juice. The celebration really began to kick off when they opened a bag of jelly beans and offered Harry first choice.  
  
He popped it into his mouth and promptly spit it out. "Blaugh! What the hell was that?!"  
  
Malfoy rolled with laugher, and nearly ended up on the floor.  
  
"Burtie Bott's a right bastard," Malfoy managed between giggles. "What flavor was it?"  
  
Harry ran his tongue over his lips and frowned thoughtfully. "It sort of tasted like black pepper."  
  
Crabbe made a noise of discontent and said, "I 'aven't got one of those in a long time."  
  
Malfoy grinned and ate one himself. He smiled and swallowed it happily.  
 "Caramel," he said with a smug look.  
  
"That's not fair, give me another one," Harry said, leaning over and digging a hand into the bag.  
  
It soon became a contest to find and eat the best tasting beans before anyone else could. Most of them turned out to be rather gross, but it was fun all the same.  
  
It had been a long day, and Harry was sure it was going to be even more exhausting when they reached the school. But right then and there, Harry was happy. He smiled widely, and for the first time in his life, he had a good memory to look back on.  



	2. Into the Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's finally there, the great Hogwarts that he just learned about the very same day. His excitement is squashed when he realizes he's the only one who doesn't know what's going on.

  
  
Harry lost sight of Draco and the others in the wave of students leaving the train. He thought he saw a flash of blond here and their, but he lost it again any time he tried to get closer. Starting to panic slightly, he gripped the wand in his pocket for comfort and shuffled sideways to find a gap in the crowd. A booming voice called out for the first years somewhere to his left and Harry ended up getting pushed along with the crowd once more. Harry ran nearly head first into a large statue thanks to one particularly vicious elbow in his ribs. The statue, was in fact, a large man and happened the be the one calling the first years away from the rest of the students.  
  
"Alright there?" the man inquired with a smile, pressing a massive hand on Harry's shoulder. He was far taller than your average man, and heavily bearded. He could be described as nothing other than a giant.  
  
"I'm... I'm fine," Harry managed to squeak.  
  
"Yer a first year, ain't cha?"  
  
Harry nodded and felt his hands begin to shake. It was all too much. He was alone in the crowd, having already lost his first friends, and was now being stared down by a giant. To top it all off, everyone else seemed to know what to do. How was it that Harry was the only one who knew nothing about Hogwarts, or wizards in general?  
  
"Don' fret, lad," the man said in a quieter voice. "Yer gonna' love it 'ere! Name's Hagrid, by the way. What's yers?"  
  
The shift in his tone helped sooth Harry's nerves enough to brave looking up at the giant again. "Harry, sir. Harry Potter."  
  
"'Arry!" Hagrid cheered, "so yer got 'ere in one piece, didn't ya? Good fer you, lad!"  
  
Harry couldn't hold back a smile. He wasn't used to getting any sort of praise, much less for something as simple as arriving. "Thank you, sir." He glanced around and added, "I don't know where to go, actually."  
  
"S'alright, just follow me!" Hagrid beamed through his massive beard and turned to lead the way.  
Harry rushed after him, afraid of losing the last friendly face in the crowd. He wasn't the only one following the giant, the crowd of eager students were pressing him on all sides as Hagrid lead the way from the station.  
  
The group didn't thin out until they reached the shore of a lake, and began to pile into different boats. Harry cast one more desperate look around for his friends before giving up and settling into a boat filled with strangers. One of the boys was looking a little sick and seemed to be clutching some sort of toad to his chest.  
  
"Did you get that from the lake?" A dark haired girl asked. The girl next to her, who Harry noticed was her twin, started to giggle obnoxiously.  
  
"H-He's my pet," the boy stammered out before shutting his mouth abruptly.  
  
The girls sneered and made disgusted faces. "You were supposed to bring an owl or a cat, not a part of the swamp."  
  
"Mcgonagall said you could bring any pet bought in the store," Harry intervened. He disliked bullying, even when it wasn't him who was being bullied. "Did you buy him?" Harry addressed the boy, hoping he wasn't wrong.  
  
"My... my Gran did," the boy replied, looking a little less sick. "His name's Trevor."  
  
Harry smiled at the toad. "Nice to meet you, Trevor." Glancing back up at the boy's startled face, he asked, "what's your name, then?"  
  
"N-Neville?"  
  
"Nice to meet you, Neville. I'm Harry."  
  
Neville nodded and fell back into silence, keeping his flushed face turned away from the girls. Harry shrugged and let it go, giving the twins a small glare before noticing that they were no longer on open water. Somehow, during their short conversation, they had arrived under the castle. Harry kicked himself for not taking the chance to see the castle before they arrived. He had been too worried about messing up and getting lost to admire the view.  
  
With only one student dripping wet from the lake, the group made their way up a series of corridors until they were just outside a massive set of doors. Harry could hear the murmur of hundreds of voices coming from just beyond them. As the students around him began to get antsy, Mcgonagall opened the doors swiftly to call them in.  
  
They formed a disjointed queue and followed her through into a massive room. It was, by far, the most amazing thing Harry had ever seen. There were floating candles, the ceiling seemed to be gone, and he was sure he spotted what had to have been a ghost. Harry gaped at it all until he started tripping over the feet of the person in front of him.  
  
"Oy, watch it!"  
  
Harry fell back and ended up bumping into the person behind him. "Sorry! I'm sorry."  
  
The person behind him happened to be Neville. "It's alright," he replied, ducking his head down to avoid eye contact.  
  
The red-head Harry had stepped on turned around and spotted him. As soon as their eyes met, Harry watched the boy's attention slide from his glasses up to the scar and back again.  
  
"You're _Harry Potter_!" The red-head squeaked. "I got trampled by Harry Potter."  
  
"I'm sorry about that," Harry quickly tried to amend. He couldn't tell if the boy was simply shocked at his existence or appalled that the supposed 'hero of the wizarding world' had just stepped on him.  
  
"This is brilliant! I'm Ron, by the way," the boy offered his hand. "Ron Weasley."  
  
Harry smiled at his excitement and shook the hand offered to him. He was still reeling at how fast he was making friends. It was a grave contrast to his lonely life back home.  
  
"Well, you know who I am already. But nice to meet you, I'm Harry."  
  
Ron giggled for a moment, lost in his own excitement. It sounded loud in the silence that had fallen when Professor Mcgonagall entered the center of the floor carrying a stool and a hat.  
  
"Oh," Ron batted Harry's chest with a hand. "Here we go, mate. Time to figure out our houses." He grinned at Harry and added with a wink, "not that we don't know what one we're gonna be in."  
  
Harry looked at the hat doubtfully and tried to remember what Mcgonagall had said about the houses. "Wait," he said with a small frown, "what do you mean we know? I don't know."  
  
Ron gave him a look. "It's Gryffindor, obviously. Here, look," he said as he pulled Harry closer and pointed over at a table. Harry squinted and spotted two more red-heads sitting at the table. As if sensing his eyes, the twins looked over at them and began to wave obnoxiously.  
  
"Those are my brothers, Fred and George. They said they saw you on the train, but I didn't believe them."  
  
Harry smiled ruefully at the memory of the red-headed brothers gawking at him. It had been extremely uncomfortable at the time, and the attention they were drawing to him now was no better. At least Ron had introduced himself, which was more than he could say about most of the other gawking students.  
  
"I don't understand," came Neville's voice from behind them, "how does this prove the house you're going to be in?"  
  
Ron turned to them with a proud smile. "All my brothers are Gryffindors. I'm guaranteed to get in."  
  
Neville nodded but Harry was still confused. "What does that have to do with me, then?"  
  
"You're a hero!" Ron cheered. "Good guys are _meant_ for Gryffindor."  
  
Harry swallowed a swarm of insecure questions and nodded along with Neville. He still didn't get it, but he wasn't about to argue with his newly made friends. In the midst of their talking, the sorting had already begun. He had just noticed how much closer they were to the front when he heard a familiar name get called.  
  
"Draco Malfoy!"  
  
Harry pulled out from the queue to peek around the others. He bit back a laugh as he watched Draco stride forward and sit on the stool as if it were a throne. Ron peeked over his shoulder and made a disgusted noise.  
  
The hat had barely touched the blond's head before it bellowed, "SLYTHERIN!"  
  
"Well _there's_ a surprise," Ron commented nastily.  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
Ron sneered at the blond's back as Draco sat down next to the already sorted Crabbe and Goyle. "Well, he's a pure blood and his father's a death eater."  
  
  
"A... what?"  
  
Ron looked at him as if he had never seen him before. "Blimey, you really _don't_ know anything."  
  
Harry bristled at his words and shrunk back a little. He should have expected it, after years of Dudley and his friends making nice one second and putting him down the next. Even if it was true, Ron's word stung him. So what if he didn't know anything except what the two professors and Draco had told him. He didn't grow up around wizards. It wasn't fair that every kept expecting him to know everything.  
  
"Death eaters work for you-know-who," Ron continued, not noticing Harry's discomfort.  
  
You-know-who was a topic the professors had brought up. They had to, considering Harry's past with the wizard. The wand shop owner had also talked about him, although Harry tried to forget what he had said. For once, he knew something, and it wasn't a very good something.  
  
"Draco's father works for Vold—"  
  
Ron hissed and slapped a hand over Harry's mouth. "Sssh! Don't say his name."  
  
Harry mumbled and pulled the hand away.  
  
Ron looked him over thoughtfully, then his eyes sought out the blond again. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Or, I should say snake." Ron grimaced. "Malfoy is going to be a death eater too, no doubt."  
  
Harry paled and followed Ron's eyes to stare at the back of Draco's head. Was it true? Would Draco some day turn against Harry and join the man who killed his parents? Who tried to kill _him_.  
  
No.  
  
The memory of a bright pink face looking back at him in a mix of awe and happiness shook all the dark thoughts from his mind.  
  
Draco was his friend, his first friend. He had been nothing but kind to him from the start. He didn't even make fun of the fact that Harry was completely ignorant about anything to do with the wizarding world. Harry knew Draco wouldn't betray him like that. He hoped, anyway.  
  
"No," Harry said at last, his voice more confident than he felt. "Draco wouldn't do that."  
  
Ron's eyebrows shot up, "You really think he wouldn't? Wait... you keep saying 'Draco'. No one calls him that except his cronies."  
  
Harry lifted his chin and stared back at him confidently. "We are friends."  
  
Ron spent the next few moments opening and closing his mouth, struggling and failing to find words. At last, he managed to stutter out, "y-ou... but you can't!"  
  
"I can be friends with who I want," Harry snapped back. His patience was starting to run thin. Neville shook his head but didn't say a word. Both boys looked uncomfortable and continued to shoot angry looks over at the Slytherin table as if it was the entire house's fault for Harry's choice in friends.  
  
Ron tried to bring it up again, but Harry ignored him and turned his focus back to the sorting. The students had really thinned out over time, leaving Harry and a few others to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room.  
  
At last, Harry was called.  
  
He couldn't manage the confident stride that Draco had used, so he opted to shuffle up to the stool and sit down nervously. Mcgonagall flashed him a small, reassuring smile and placed the hat on his head. It slipped down over his eyes, and for a panicked moment, Harry thought he was back in his cupboard again.  
  
  
" _Hmm, you're a hard stick_ ," a voice commented near his ear.  
  
Harry jumped and nearly fell off the stool. A smattering of laughter filled the hall, reminding Harry that he had just made a fool of himself in front of the entire school. Great.  
  
" _Nervous?_ " The voice asked.  
  
"More like embarrassed," Harry muttered.  
  
" _Hmmm. Sounds a bit Hufflepuff._ "  
  
Harry frowned and tried to remember what he knew about the houses. Not enough, apparently. He was left in silence for a while and his mind drifted back to his conversation with Ron. The good guys always ended up in Gryffindor? But Draco was good, and Crabbe and Goyle had been almost nicer than Ron. Well, quieter, maybe.  
  
" _Hmm, you're rather loyal_ ," the voice commented. " _A bit too brave for a Hufflepuff. Perhaps Gryffindor?_ "  
  
 _Good guys_ , Harry thought. Griffendor was where he was expected to go, wasn't it? Where he would be treated like some sort of prize or mascot. Ron was just as ready to brush him off as any other bloke until he spotted the scar. The twins didn't even say hi, but proceeded to whisper about him right there in front of him. Was that the future Harry had to look forward to?  
  
"No," Harry hissed. "I would rather not have my life picked out for me anymore."  
  
The hat shifted on his head and muttered, " _No? Have it your way then. Your loyalties are very..._ "  
  
"SLYTHERIN!" The hat shouted out loud.  
  
The muttering that had started during the long debate between Harry and the Sorting Hat ceased immediately. Harry plucked the hat from his head and was met with a sea of startled faces. His eyes wandered a moment until they found Draco. Of everyone in the room, he was the only one who looked pleased at the announcement. That was all Harry needed to regain some of his confidence.  
  
He flashed a smile at the room and jumped off the stool to head to the table. Draco sat up straighter and began to clap. The rest of the hall joined it, slowly as if unsure why they were clapping.  
  
"Harry!" Draco called out, waving him over to sit in the space he had made for him.  
  
"Hi," Harry replied with a grin, throwing himself down next to the blond.  
  
Draco all but beamed at him, and the two boys beside him seemed oddly pleased at his placement as well. The rest of the table, however, seemed a little discouraged. Harry ignored it. Just as he ignored the staring, confused eyes, and the whispers between students and teachers. Casting a glance over the teacher's table, only Snape seemed to have recovered, sending Harry a small nod. The hall buzzed with energy, most of the students no longer paying attention to the final first years being sorted. No one even clapped when Ron was sorted into Gryffindor. Apparently he wasn't wrong about the family guarantee.   
  
Draco had started talking as soon as he sat down, stealing Harry's attention from the chatter around them. If he didn't know any better, he would have said Draco was trying to comfort him. The thought that the, usually aloof, blond was trying to make him feel, better cheered him up considerably. Draco continued to talk, even as food appeared before them on the table. He allowed Harry a moment of complete awe before shoving plates at him and telling him to eat. Harry piled up his plate with more food than he had been fed in the course of three days, and began to eat.  
  
He felt warm and comfortable. A friend chatting in his ear between bites, mouth watering food, and a sense of belonging Harry had never felt before in all his life.  
  


* * *

  
  
Draco couldn't hold back a smile at his new friend's eagerness for the first classes. They had each been given a schedule by Professor Snape before they got ready to turn in and as soon as they entered the dorm room, Harry had jumped onto his bed and rolled around for a half hour while everyone else started to take things out of their trunks. He ignored Draco's insistence to unpack, and clung to his pillow with a foolish grin on his face. Draco couldn't understand his excitement for the bed. Personally, he found it uncomfortable compared to his bed at home.  
  
But Harry loved it. By the time everyone else had gotten ready for bed, he was still laying there, fully clothed, looking at his schedule. His cheeks were flushed with excitement.  
  
"Come on, Harry," Draco commanded, "get ready for bed already."  
  
"I doubt I'll be able to sleep, I'm too wound up."  
  
"Just get your pajamas on, at least. You're making me antsy with all this rolling about."  
  
Harry stuck his tongue out at him, launching himself out of the bed and flipped open his trunk. Draco's smile fell away as soon as Harry pulled off his baggy, stripped shirt. Ugly fashion aside, he had noticed right away that there was something off about Potter. Now, Draco knew why.  
  
Harry's ribs poked through his flesh so harshly, Draco imagined that it must physically hurt the boy. How could Harry even move about like that? Even his spine was visible, a long line of nobby bumps trailing down his back. He spotted a small bruise blossoming on his side, just under Potter's ribs. But what really caught Draco's attention was the scar that crawled its way down from Harry's shoulder to just above his trousers. It was a bad one, clearly not taken care of properly. It wasn't a cursed scar, so there was no reason it couldn't have been healed fully by a medic.  
  
"Was that from an accident?" Draco blurted out. He regretted it immediately when Harry turned around with a pale, shocked face.  
  
"It's not what you think!" Harry babbled, turning away in a fluster to pull an even baggier pajama top over his head.  
  
"It's not what I think? I _think_ It looks like someone hurt you."  
  
"Well, yeah. I did get hurt. But it was an _accident_ ," Harry snapped in return. "I fell."  
  
Draco scoffed and came closer to the boy, ignoring the way Harry's shoulders tensed up. "Don't even try lying to me. I'm the best liar here, and you wouldn't even fool a Longbottom."  
  
"I fell..." Harry whispered, keeping his body turned away.  
  
Draco froze, one hand already reaching for the trembling shoulder in front of him. He had never encountered anything like this before. No one got hurt around him, and no one had that haunted look that he had seen in Harry's eyes. He had never comforted anyone in his entire life, usually he was the one being comforted. What was Draco supposed to do here? Would touching him scare him more, or help? Should he press for a better answer, or simply leave it.  
  
Draco scowled. A Malfoy never gave up, especially when there were unanswered questions. "Harry Potter, you look me in the eye and tell me who did this."  
  
To his surprise, Harry let out a huff of laughter and turned to give him a weird look. "Bossy prig."  
  
Draco's jaw dropped open. "E-excuse me?!"  
  
Apparently, his expression was amusing, because Harry burst out laughing to the point of tears.  
  
"You should... you should see your face," he managed between giggles.  
  
Draco sent him a half-hearted glare, unable to feel too angry at him after finally seeing Harry laugh.  
  
"This is what I get for _caring_ ," Draco muttered and turned away back to his bed. Several of the boys who had already fallen asleep muttered curses at the two of them from behind their curtains. With one last glare at Potter, he slide into his bed.  
  
"Oh, don't sulk, Draco," Harry called out just as he was pulling the bed curtains closed.  
  
"Shut it, Potter!"  
  
" _Both_ of you shut up!" Yelled someone from across the room. A chorus of groans agreed with them, and both Draco and Harry closed their mouths with guilty looks.  
  
After adjusting his less-than-perfect pillow, Draco realized he hadn't closed his curtains all the way. He noticed that Harry's curtain were still open and the boy was simply sitting on the edge, staring at nothing. He looked sad, and for a moment Draco considered sneaking back over to talk to him some more. The moment passed and Harry slipped into his covers and quickly jerked the curtains closed around him.  
  
Draco wondered, not for the first time, just who Harry Potter was.


	3. Misfit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's first day was a massive failure. Actually, he was just a failure.  
> At least, that's what he thinks until Draco shows him otherwise.

  
  
Harry pressed his face deeper into his pillow and choked back a sob. Today had been the worst day in his entire life, and considering some of the days spent with the Dursleys, that was saying something.  
  
Hogwarts was supposed to be where he belonged. The special place he always dreamed of running away to, where he would have friends and people who loved him. It wasn't that the school had failed him. It was Harry who had failed his school. He wasn't special, he didn't belong. Dudley was right, Harry was just a _freak_.  
  
That morning had started with butterflies in his stomach. It was the first day of classes and Harry was eager to finally use some magic. He barely had anything to eat, not even with Draco's thorough scolding. A girl named Pansy had introduced herself in a rush, very interested in Draco's new friend. She got even more excited when she learned that he was the infamous _Harry Potter_. But after a while she looked rather put out by his shy answers and lack of knowledge about magic.  
  
Harry should have known, even then, that something was wrong with him. He was failing to meet other's expectations, as usual. His only comfort was the fact that Draco had stuck by his side, even though he remained oddly quite all morning.  
  
Was it something he said? Maybe he shouldn't have called him names so soon. Dudley always joked with his friends, calling them jerks or ugly. But they always laughed and called him things right back. Maybe only normal people were allowed to do that. Harry was going to have to apologize as soon as possible.  
  
He was really starting to panic by the time everyone stood and headed to their classes. A quick glance at his schedule showed he had potions first, something he was actually pretty confident he would do well in. He had always been a good cook, great at measuring with his eyes, and had a pretty good intuition for controlling the temperature. However, as soon as they all filed into the dungeon classroom, he found there was no where for him to sit. Draco had Pansy paired with him, and was looking oddly irritated while he picked at the edge of the table. A small glance his way told him why. The blond made a point of turning his glare between Pansy and Harry before mouthing, "save me!".  
  
He felt considerably better knowing Draco hadn't left him out on purpose. Since there wasn't another stool, he slid over and hovered next to them, unsure of what to do.  
  
"I, er... we were supposed to be paired, Harry."  
  
He shrugged a little, faking nonchalance. "It's fine. I just don't know where to go."  
  
"Stay right here," Draco replied, leaning back to peer around the classroom. He perked up suddenly. "Ah, there is a stool! It's just..."  
  
Harry turned and saw where he was looking. It was a single spot on the corner of a much shorter table that was pushed right up against the teacher's desk. It looked suspiciously like the seat left for students who were in trouble. Harry glanced back at Draco and grimaced.  
  
"Just stay here," Draco repeated, "he can't expect you to sit there. Pansy, go sit over there!"  
  
The girl looked at the stool and made a disgusted noise. "You can't be serious?!"  
  
"This _was_ Harry's seat. I was saving it for _him_."  
  
"I'm sure he can survive _one_ class apart from you, Draco."  
  
The blond boy hissed and started to protest when Harry gently touched his shoulder. "It's fine, really. I'll just set up over there."  
  
Draco frowned, opening his mouth to complain again before Professor Snape entered the room.  
  
"If you are finished socializing, Potter, I suggest you set up for class. We wouldn't want you to be behind now, would we?"  
  
Harry blushed instantly and hurried over to the smaller desk. He began taking everything out in a hurry, trying to listen to the professor start his lecture. He was going to miss some notes.  
  
"You may have come here expecting this to be easy," Snape began, casting a glare across the classroom, "but there is more to potions than stirring some ingredients together. It takes patience, caution, even intuition to make a good potion. It takes _talent_ to make an excellent one."  
  
Once he stopped dumping things out of his bag, Harry stared up at him, hanging off every word. He had his parchment out and ready, but was fumbling a little with the quill. It was certainly not the same as working with a pen.  
  
"Can anyone tell me what this is?" Snape asked, holding up a round object that looked like a rock.  
  
The brown-haired girl from the train nearly popped out of her seat, her hand straight up in the air. Snape let his eyes slide over her before they settled on Harry, who just happened to be fussing with the ink pot at the time.  
  
"How about you, Mr. Potter?"  
  
Harry jerked his head up and stared at the object. "I... Is it a stone, sir?"  
  
The class giggled and the brown-haired girl gave him a pitying look, her hand still in the air.  
  
"It is a stone, but what type of stone, Potter?"  
  
Harry wracked his brain for anything he might find useful. He had only managed to read through the introduction of his potions book before finally falling asleep. He hadn't seen anything about a rock. Then again, it was something needed for a potion, wasn't it? Harry squinted at it and frowned. There had been something in the index about a goat.  
  
"Is it the stone from a goat, sir?"  
  
Snape's eyebrows shot up for a split second of surprise before settling back into his usual bored expression. "Yes. But the correct name for it is, a Bezoar. It is taken from the stomach of a goat and can be used to cure nearly anything."  
  
The girl who had been waiting to answer deflated at last, sinking back into her seat. She gave Harry an irritated glance and turned back to her note taking. Draco gave Harry a discrete thumbs up, which cheered him up considerably.  
  
Snape went on to explain what they would be covering for the rest of the semester, and gave them instructions to start on a 'simple' potion. Harry was already feeling overwhelmed just by taking notes. He could hardly read what he wrote, and Snape had sneered over his shoulder at them more than once.  
  
With a sigh, Snape sat down at his desk and addressed him directly, "Potter, since you have no partner, I shall assist you when you should need it."  
  
Harry ducked his head and muttered his thanks, feeling even more intimidated by the man. He successfully heated up the caldron and was about to add the quills when a shout went out from across the room. The boy Harry remembered as Neville had toppled backwards when his caldron started to melt. The entire room began to fill with a nasty smell.  
  
"You were supposed to remove it from the fire before adding the quills, Longbottom." Snape glared at the mess and cleaned it up with a wave of his wand. "10 points from Gryffendor," he added, clicking his tongue.  
  
Harry glanced at Draco, who looked a little stunned, before quickly removing his own caldron from the heat. He added the remaining ingredients and waited eagerly for the potion to emit pink smoke as the book said it would. After a few minutes, the potion had gone pale and refused to do much else. Harry swallowed nervously and glanced around the room at the others.  
  
The eager girl, who glared at him before, seemed content with her potion and was already packing away her supplies. Harry's heart dropped when he noticed that most people seemed to be doing alright with the potion.  
  
"Something the matter?" Draco whispered, leaning across the way to look at his potion.  
  
Harry bit his lip and muttered back, "it's not making pink smoke."  
  
  
"Ours isn't either."  
  
"Did you finish all the steps?" Harry asked, peering over at their caldron. Just as he looked, a puff of pink smoke rose from their potion, causing Pansy to squeal with glee. Draco rolled his eyes and gave Harry and pat on the shoulder.  
  
"Was there something you needed from Mr. Malfoy, Potter?" Snape spoke suddenly.  
  
"N-no sir," Harry stammered and turned back to his failed potion. No pink smoke, just a pale potion that looked a little watery. He glanced back over the instructions with a building panic.  
  
What if he added more nettles? The timing was slightly off, but hadn't he seen something about adding them as it cooled? Wait... did he wave his wand over the potion? What happened if he waves it twice?  
  
Harry jumped as Snape called out to the class, "everyone should be finished now. Wands down, and bottle the potions. I expect one from each of you on my desk before you go."  
  
Harry panicked and decided to try one more wave before he bottled it. Nothing happened. No pink smoke, and the stuff still looked pretty watery. With a heavy sigh, he carefully took the eye dropper put some potion in a bottle with his name. He rushed to clean up his area, his cheeks burning with shame.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
He turned to see Draco standing by his shoulder.  
  
"What's wrong?" He asked.  
  
"Nothing... It's just," Harry paused and glanced at the professor who was glaring at them. "It's nothing."  
  
"Come on, then. It's lunch and then flying, and then Defense Against Dark Arts!"  
  
Snape make a small noise in the back of his throat. It was a signal that they should go, so Harry dumped his supplies in his bag and rushed out behind Malfoy.  
  
"That wasn't all bad," Draco commented on their way up from the dungeons. "I thought I had made a grave mistake for a moment there." He paused and looked around for others. "Not that it's possible for me to make a mistake."  
  
Harry scoffed and bumped against him. "Because the Great and Powerful Draco Malfoy never messes up."  
  
"Precisely."  
  
Harry laughed, starting to feel better already. He may have failed, but at least he wasn't the only one. Neville and that Ron kid didn't even have a potion to submit. So maybe having cooking experience wasn't going to cut it, but Harry was determined to be prepared for the next potions class.  
  
Now all he had to worry about was learning how to fly on a broom. How hard could that be?

* * *

  
  
  
Draco had done his best to cheer Harry up during lunch. He even went as far as to admit he was bad at something. If sacrificing his dignity wasn't enough, then perhaps the flying lesions would lift Harry's mood.   
  
"You are going to  _ love _ this," Draco called out, rushing out the front doors ahead of him. It wasn't his first time on a broom, obviously, but it never lost its excitement. Especially now that he got to see a bunch of newbies fall off their brooms.   
  
"I thought we weren't actually flying today," Harry called out from behind him. The dark-haired boy was dragging his feet for some reason. His moping was starting to get on Draco's nerves.   
  
  
"We shall see about that," he replied under his breath as they approached the group. He made sure, this time, to get a place next to Harry when they lined up.   
  
"Everyone ready? Now hold your hands over your broom and say,  _ UP _ !'" Madam Hooch directed, standing at the front of the rows.   
  
Draco smirked and calmly commanded his broom into his hand. To his surprise, Harry's broom snapped right into his own hand without a verbal command.   
  
"What did you just do?"   
  
"Hmm?" Harry blinked at him, his face split into a wide grin.   
  
"Did you just..." Draco trailed off, seeing the boy's smile falter a bit. "Never mind. Good job. Most people fail, like Weasley there."   
  
"Bugger off, Malfoy!"   
  
Draco sneered at the red-head and swung a leg over his broom gracefully. Harry stared at him in awe.   
  
"Mr. Malfoy, only hovering please. Now if everyone could follow his example, we will be staying just above the ground."   
  
Harry mounted with far less grace than he had. But once on, he settled in on the broom as if he were a part of it. They shared a grin before a shout came from down the line.   
  
"Mr. Longbottom!" Madam Hooch yelled, rushing forward too late to stop the boy from lifting farther and farther off the ground. "Longbottom, get down!"   
  
"I always knew he was a bird brain," Draco joked, grinning at Harry.   
  
"He's going to get hurt."   
  
"It's on his own foolish head, then."   
  
"Draco, that's not fair," Harry chided, looking disappointed. "That could be  _ me _ ."   
  
Draco's mood started to darken. Who did he think he was, treating him like he was some sort of disappointment? It's not as though he would laugh if it were Harry, so why did he care?   
  
There was a scream and a dull thump, causing the group to gasp. Harry jumped from his broom and rushed across the grass with the others.   
  
Draco rolled his eyes and slipped off his broom, not bothering to join the rest. This was turning out to be a boring day, by the looks of it. That bumbling idiot hadn't even lasted long enough in the air for a few more jokes.   
  
In front of him, the group broke apart as Madam Hooch brought the boy inside. He seemed to be alright, other than his hand. Some of the students started drifting back over, muttering excitedly about the accident.   
  
_ Boring _ .   
  
Draco scowled at them and looked around at the scattered brooms. Something glinted in the sunlight.   
  
"What have we here?" He muttered, bending down and picking up a small, glass sphere. "Ah-ha!" He said louder, turning to address the rest of the Slytherins who had joined him. "It's this that idiot's remembrall. Wasn't he bragging about it all morning? Yet here it is, left in the grass."   
  
"Draco," Harry mumbled, his face tense.   
  
"What's wrong, Harry?" Draco snarled, striding over to his broom and picking it up. "I'm just taking care of it for him."   
  
"Draco, don't!"   
  
"If you don't want me having it, come and get it, Potter."   
  
  
Harry visibly flinched at the use of his last name and Draco felt a small hint of guilt hit him. The boy's face went from annoyance to utterly crushed in seconds. He hadn't meant to hurt him, just shut up his 'goody-two-shoes' act for a bit.   
  
Draco scowled and took off into the air, unwilling to look at Harry's face anymore. He did a few laps around the field and then climbed higher. A couple shouts came from below, and he turned to smile down at their appreciation. Only, it wasn't for him.   
  
Harry was right behind him, shooting into the air much faster than he should have been able to.   
  
"Malfoy!"   
  
This time Draco flinched, causing the remembrall to slip from his grasp. There was a second where Draco leaned forward to catch it, almost falling from his broom. Then he was alone in the air, Harry desperately streaking after the falling orb.   
  
"H-Harry! Don't!" He called out, clutching his broom to keep from falling. But Harry continued to dive, heading straight for the ground. He was only seconds away from smashing face first into the grass. Then, Harry pulled up, Draco's heart stopped, and someone screamed Potter's name all at the same time.   
  
He saw Harry roll off of his broom and just lay there. Draco felt his panic return again, and dove down to land next to him.   
  
"Is he alright?!" He yelled, rushing over. He was greeted by an irate looking Professor Mcgnagall.   
  
"He's perfectly alright, other than being in  _ trouble _ ," she snapped, helping the boy up from the grass. Draco saw his face, covered in dust and pieces of grass. He looked startled and a little guilty.   
  
"What were you  _ thinking _ , Potter?!" Mcgnagall hissed, looking him over.   
  
"I..." Harry looked down and held up the remembrall. "It fell."   
  
"You... you  _ caught _ that? From up there?"   
  
Madam Hooch, who had returned with the professor, gave her an odd look. Harry simply nodded and continued to look down.   
  
"Well then," Mcgnagall said, shaking her head, "come to my office tomorrow. I wish to speak to you about this."   
  
Harry simply nodded and continued to stand there when the two professors moved away to talk in hushed voices. Draco scowled at them and walked up to his friend. All the joy he had felt from flying was already gone, replaced by a heavy guilt. He had ruined Harry's day. He could just tell by the look on the boy's face that he was about ten seconds away from bursting into tears.   
  
"Harry, I..." He began quietly, "I didn't mean to get you in trouble."   
  
Harry shook his head and continued to look downward. "I know."   
  
"I'm a git and I don't deserve to be your friend."   
  
"No!" Harry yelped, jerking his head up in a panic, "we  _ are _ friends. We are, right?"   
  
Draco smiled and patted his shoulder before realizing it was covered in dirt. His scowled returned as he dusted his hands clean. "You might want to get changed before Defense."   
  
"I don't even want to go," Harry mumbled, turning back to head to the front doors. "I'll just fail again."   
  
"You didn't fail, Harry. You just did the most amazing bit of flying I've ever seen. Especially for your first time." Draco started to grin at him before he spotted Crabbe and Goyle following them. He quickly schooled his expression back to his usual boredom and pushed Harry along. "Anyway, forget about potions. Defense Against Dark Arts is brilliant, I've heard. You get to learn some pretty impressive spells. My father says they've gone soft these days, not teaching students the 'Unforgivables'.  _ Personally _ , I think he's in a mood because of all the bad news of late."   
  
Harry blinked at him in confusion and jogged along side. "What do you mean? Did something happen to your dad?"   
  
"He's writing a letter to the Ministry about the safety of our accounts at the bank. Here," Draco gestured to Crabbe, "show him."   
  
Crabbe grunted and handed over a wrinkled piece of newspaper. Harry took it from him and scanned the page quickly. "Someone stole from Gringotts? I thought that was supposed to be impossible?" Harry stopped mid-step, causing Goyle to run into him.   
  
"Oy!"   
  
"713... 713? That  _ can't _ be right."   
  
"What are you going on about now?" Draco asked, pulling him along through the doors and into the entrance hall. Harry pulled back, stopping again. Draco opened his mouth to complain but froze when he saw his face. Harry looked terrified.   
  
"What in Merlin's name is wrong now?"   
  
  
"I think..." Harry held up the newspaper slowly. "I think I might know who did this."   
  


* * *

  
  
  
Another shuddering sigh escaped Harry as the dormitory started to fill with the other students. He couldn't let them hear him crying, they would never let him live that down. So he buried his head under the pillow and tried to calm down. He knew, any second now, Draco would be there to find him. Harry was beginning to notice that the blond was rather good at apologizing without actually saying he was sorry.   
  
As soon as he thought about him, his eyes started to prick with tears again. Today had been _ such _ a bad day. He really didn't expect it to get much worse than Potions and detention with Professor Mcgnagall.   
  
They had argued the entire way down to the dungeons before Draco stomped off to class without him. Goyle decided to stay with him as he changed and grabbed his books, which seemed to only annoy Draco more when he left.   
  
It wasn't fair. Harry knew what he saw, and Draco hadn't even been there. It was a giant. A giant bearded man who looked exactly the same as the grounds keeper, Hagrid. Harry had wanted to go talk to him, but Draco told him to mind his own business. Then it was, 'you can't go around accusing whoever you like. Even if it is that dirty old half-breed', which Harry had taken offense to. Which, of course, ticked the blond off more and sent him away scowling. Goyle said nothing as he sniffled and changed, but gave him a chocolate frog before they left. They had never actually talked, but somehow he felt a lot better just having someone there.   
  
They reached the classroom a few minutes late and tried to slip in unnoticed. Harry mouthed, 'lucky' to Goyle when they successfully made it to their seats without the professor noticing. The turban-wearing man seemed distracted by his lack of chalk and continued to fumble around even as Harry pulled out parchment and a quill.   
  
Harry cast a quick glance at Draco, and was ignored. Feeling rather miserable, he turned back to face the front and found the professor staring right at him.   
  
"O-oh... you m-m-must be Mr. P-Potter?" He inquired.   
  
"Yes... um, sir."   
  
The professor nodded a few times and scuttled behind the desk before addressing the class,"M-my name is P-Pr-Profes-sor Quirell. I w-will be t-teaching you all how t-to defend yourselves against dark m-ma-magic."   
  
Harry sat up, feeling excited at last to be getting to work on some real magic. He picked up his ink pot, ready to take notes, when the professor turned to face the blackboard again.   
  
A sharp, searing pain flashed through Harry's scull, wrenching a startled cry from him. His hands flew to his scar, trying to ease the pain any way possible. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone, leaving Harry with a lap full of ink and a room full of startled faces.   
  
"I... sorry," he murmured, one hand kneading his aching forehead. The sharp pain was gone, but his entire head felt like someone had just walked all over it.   
  
"Are you alright, mate?" Came a voice from his left. Harry turned and was surprised to see Ron looking at him with concern.   
  
"I'm f-fine," he replied hesitantly. Turning to face the professor, he added once again, "I'm sorry, sir."   
  
"Are you sure you are w-well?" Quirell asked, hovering near the first row. For some reason, Harry didn't want him to come closer. So he nodded and smiled sheepishly.   
  
"A-alright... then let us begin with..."   
  
Harry tuned him out and tried to daub up the ink from his robes with a piece of parchment. After a few failed attempts he heard a muttered, ' _ Scourgify _ ' and the ink was gone. He cast a quick look around and saw Draco staring at him with his wand out. The blond glared at him for a moment before turning back to listen to the professor.   
  
"N-Now, I would like you in p-pairs to try this spell. We will be using it at a later time we we practice p-p-proper w-wizard duels. Until then, we will be using the most simp-plified version." Quirell paused and held up his wand. "You sh-should aim for their wand, not their bodies. The spell should knock it from your opponents hand. Now pair up. Q-quickly, please."   
  
Harry shuffled out of his seat, intending to head over to Draco and the others. Before he got far, a hand grabbed his arm and turned him around.   
  
"Please,  _ please _ pair with me," Ron begged, glancing around nervously, "that last incident with Neville has me scared for me life!"   
  
Harry snorted and glanced back at his friends. They had already paired off and didn't seem to notice him. He didn't want to admit it, but that hurt. These were his first friends, and they hated him already. He  _ knew _ he was a freak, why else did everyone abandon him so easily?   
  
"What do you say?" Ron asked again.   
  
"Er, sure. Okay."   
  
"Brilliant! Come on then!"   
  
Harry allowed himself to be pulled along for the second time today. He was starting to feel a little stretched. It was probably normal for someone's first day, or maybe it was just because he did so poorly today.   
  
"Ready?" Ron asked, taking a few steps away and holding his wand up.   
  
"Wait, what's the actual spell?" Harry replied, realizing he hadn't been listening at all.   
  
"It's basically like hitting someone without actually hitting them. Just say, 'Flipendo' and wave your wand, I guess."   
  
Harry looked down at his wand, and back up at the red-head. "Should I go first, then?"   
  
"Sure."   
  
" _ Flipendo _ !" Harry shouted, jabbing his wand forward like a sword. Ron flinched, and nothing happened. Harry wiggled his wand a few times at him and waited a minute more before giving up.   
  
"Alright, my turn," Ron said, looking a bit nervous. " _ FLIPENDO _ !"   
  
Harry skidded back a little, but otherwise remained unfazed.   
  
"Huh, so it worked a little bit," he commented, looking up at a startled Ron. "Should I try again?"   
  
"Mr. P-Potter," Quirell said, weaving in and out of students to approach. "You need to flick your wrist m-more, I b-be-believe. D-down and up!"   
  
"Yes, sir." Harry swallowed nervously, uncomfortable with how close he was standing. He gritted his teeth and called out the spell again, this time flicking his wrist. Ron sneezed.   
  
"Was that you, mate?"   
  
Harry glared at him and shook his head. "It's not working."   
  
"Let me try again," Ron replied, "maybe it's the hand movement."   
  
Harry steeled himself for another blow and was caught off guard when the jinx hit him hard enough to knock him over. There was applause and Ron was beaming at his success. No one came to help him up, so Harry stood up on his own and went back to his desk.   
  
"Oh, come on mate!" Ron called out, "come back and try again!"   
  
Harry slid everything off his desk into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Professor? I'm not feeling well, may I be excused?"   
  
Quirell glanced at something on his desk and nodded. "You m-may. As for the r-rest of you, please practice a few more times b-before the end of class!"   
  
Harry ducked his head and rushed out of the classroom. He nearly ran the entire way back to the dormitory, ignoring anyone who crossed his path. His eyes were already brimming with tears by the time he made it to the common room and he could only hope the older students didn't notice.   
  
Now, the first years were finally back from dinner and were already heading to bed. Harry hadn't bothered to go, unwilling to face anyone after his repeated failures.   
Over the course of the past few hours, Harry had decided that professor Snape and Mcgnagall were wrong. He wasn't a wizard, they had made a drastic mistake. Maybe the wand he was given was one of those party favors that spit sparks out when you pull them. It  _ had _ to be a mistake. So, he began making plans on leaving, who to tell and where to go.   
  
Of course he had to return to the Dursleys, he had no other family.   
Harry could already hear their laughter.   
  
_ I told you, boy. Nothing but a freak. A no-good, waste of bleeding space. You thought you were special, didn't you? _   
  
Dudley would laugh, and probably hit him a few times to really drive the point home. Then Vernon would start in on him, punching him until he was down and then he would kick in his ribs. Aunt Petunia can join too, clawing at his face and...   
  
"Harry?"   
  
Harry jerked awake and instantly lashed out at the body hovering over him. There was a startled squawk and a thud of a someone hitting the floor. Someone swore from across the room but soon returned to snoring. Harry blinked the tears out of his eyes and sat up in a panic, just now realizing where he was.   
  
"I'msosorry, I thought you were someone else,"He blurted out, jumping out of his bed. Of course, it was Draco, sitting on the floor rubbing his back with a grimace.   
  
"Merlin," He groaned, looking up at him, "what the hell was that? Did you just jinx me?"   
  
There was a loud, ' _ SSSHHHHH _ !' from another bed.   
  
Harry knelt in front of him and gave him a once over, checking for damage. He couldn't meet his eye, so he focused on his shoulder as he spoke quietly, "I don't even have my wand..."   
  
Draco's expression changed from doubt to a curious frown as he stared back at him. "It felt exactly like the jinx we learned today. Where's your wand?"   
  
"On the nightstand," Harry replied, glancing up at the gray eyes that continued to study him. "I probably just hit you, i'm really sorry."   
  
"Harry..."   
  
"Draco, I  _ really _ didn't mean it!" Harry urged in a tense whisper, his eyes already tearing up again. "None of it today. I promise I won't ask Hagrid a thing and I'll do better in classes and i'm sorry about ball and—"   
  
"Will you shut it for two seconds?" Draco snapped, leaning forward to grab his shoulders. "Just _ listen _ to me."   
  
Harry froze for a moment before nodding reluctantly. Draco waited, giving him a warning look before continuing, "firstly, stop apologizing. You didn't do anything wrong today, okay? You can go talk to the big oaf all you want, just don't be an idiot and get yourself in trouble because you're asking a bank robber if he robbed a bank."   
  
Harry's eyes widened. Draco had been worried, not angry.   
  
"Secondly," the blond went on, "you didn't fail, I think I know what the problem is now."   
  
"The problem?"   
  
"Harry, you just did wandless magic."   
  
Harry blinked at him slowly and tried to think. "I... what? Is that even possible?"   
  
"Very powerful wizards can do it," Draco answered, sounding a little strange, "and sometimes certain wizards have trouble doing normal wand-spells..."   
  
Draco's eyes were lit up with excitement, a wide grin forming on his face. His smile was infectious, and Harry found himself smiling back nervously. "What does that make me, then?"   
  
_ A freak? _   
  
Draco laughed, ignoring the chorus of sleepy, angry grumbles from around the room. He rolled his eyes and leaned close, whispering in his ear, "it means you're  _ special _ , Harry."   
  
  
Harry went to bed with butterflies in his stomach and a smile on his face.   
  


 


	4. Ability

  
  
"I don't want to!"   
  
"Stop whinging on about it and just do it!"   
  
"I don't  _ want _ to."   
  
"Harry, you have to practice this."   
  
Harry glared at Draco and crossed his arms, making a point of ignoring the cup he was supposed to be levitating. "Since when do you care so much about studying, anyway?"   
  
"Since always," Draco replied easily, leaning back on the desk he had perched on over an hour ago, "and i'm not letting you fall behind just because you're different."   
  
Harry turned his glare to the cup and muttered, "I don't  _ want _ to be different."   
  
"Well unless you have the power to completely change who you are, I suggest you at least try to learn some magic. That's what you're here for, isn't it?"   
  
"Git."   
  
"Pratt."   
  
Harry let out a sigh and let him arms fall to his side, trying to relax. "What do I do, again?"   
  
"I don't know, just don't think in terms of wands and spells. You have to connect to the object with your body."   
  
Harry reached out and touched the cup, giving Draco a blank look.   
  
"Potter so help me..."   
  
"Alright, alright. Enough goofing off, then," Harry said, taking a step back and concentrating on the cup once again. It was probably the most boring cup in existence, not exactly something easy to focus on.   
  
_ Levitate. Move. Fly. Jump? Oh come on. _   
  
Harry groaned and ran his hands over his face, spinning around in aggravation. "It's not  _ working _ !"   
  
The cup exploded.   
  
For several seconds, Harry was deaf to the world, the explosion still ringing in his ears. When the sounds started to filter back in, Draco was laughing and shouting happily.   
  
"You did it! You did it, Harry!"   
  
"It exploded..."   
  
"Well, yes it didn't exactly levitate," Draco amended, leaning over the scorched desk curiously. "At least something happened, right?"   
  
"It could have hurt you."   
  
Draco tutted and pulled Harry into a warm embrace that seemed to startle both of them. He quickly pulled back, his cheeks flushed and eyebrows furrowed.   
  
"I'm fine, uh," Draco coughed nervously and made show of walking back to his desk and dusting himself off. "Try it again, here."   
  
Another boring tin cup came flying his way, only when Harry reached out to catch it, the thing disappeared.   
  
"Okaaay, you cannot tell me  _ that  _ was me," Harry murmured, pointing at where the cup once was.   
  
"What were you thinking?"   
  
"How much I hate that bloody cup."   
  
"Maybe you vanished it, then. Just how strong was your hatred?"   
  
Harry gave him a pointed look, nodding his head to the smudge that used to be the first cup.   
  
Draco huffed with laugher and pulled his legs up into the desk. "Point taken. You get credit for creativity in your destruction, Harry, but you need to focus. It will do you no good if you go to class intending to change the color of something, and end up blowing it to bits."   
  
"No, I suppose it wouldn't be great to blow up a porcupine in front of Mcgonagall."   
  
Draco hummed, tiling his head to one side and said, "she's not miffed at you, at least. You got that all wrong, too."   
  
Harry made a face. "Please, rub it in more."   
  
"I will, you get to try out as seeker and basically have the position in the bag. That's bollocks, no first year gets to be seeker, never mind on the team." Draco narrowed his eyes and added, "you won't see me rooting for you at any of the games."   
  
"Who will you root for, then, Gryffindor?"   
  
"You...!"   
Draco hissed and tossed another cup at Harry, this one bouncing off his raised arm and falling to the floor with no further damage.   
  
Harry looked down at the cup and said, "that was anticlimactic," before it exploded again. Stumbling back with a shout of surprise and threw his arms up. Unfortunately he wasn't fast enough, and several sharp pieces of metal imbedded themselves into his skin.   
  
"Ah, hells..."   
  
"Harry? Harry, you're bleeding!"   
  
Harry dropped his arms and looked up to see Draco's panicked face directly in front of him. Pale hands ghosted over his face, while the blond's frown deepened.   
  
"I can't believe this, look how calm you are," Draco mumbled, pulling one the pieces out. "Don't you even feel it?"   
  
Harry shrugged and pulled a larger shard out of his arm, quickly stemming the blood with his shirt sleeve. "I've had worse, so I guess i'm sort of used to it."   
  
Draco's mouth pressed into a thin line, and Harry could sense the torrent of questions he was just dying to ask. There were times where Harry wanted to tell him, he really did. But Draco was also his best friend, his first and  _ only _ best friend. What if he was disgusted by the way Harry had acted? Draco made it clear time and time again how much he loathed the 'weak', the halfbloods. Harry was more than sure that same disgusted expression would cross Draco's face if he told him about the Dursleys and how he did anything they wanted of him.   
  
"I'm fine," he assured quickly, not wanting to seem weak. "It's just some small scratches."   
  
"Puncture wounds hurt, I should know."   
  
"You should?"   
  
Draco's fingers paused over the final piece, and his eyes met Harry's for the first time since the cup exploded. "I've been hurt too, you know. I'm not invincible."   
  
  
"And here I thought you were perfect," Harry joked with a dramatic sigh. "What ever shall I tell the others?"   
  
Draco yanked the last piece out, startling a yelp out of Harry. "You won't tell them anything, unless you want me to poison your pumpkin juice at dinner."   
  
"You wouldn't."   
  
"I would."   
  
"Git."   
  
"Pratt," Draco replied with a smile, and dragged Harry off to the infirmary to get fixed up.   
  


* * *

  
  
He wasn't jealous, a Malfoy  _ never _ got jealous. Alright, perhaps he was a little, but it was simply not fair. Harry, a seeker? Draco would have to wait to try out to see if he could get on the team and even then, he wasn't sure what position he could fill. He was too light to be a beater, and being a keeper was boring. Plus, Draco would have to get written permission to be allowed a broom in the first place. Harry didn't even have a broom of his own!   
  
Then again, all Harry had to do was ask Draco and he would have mother send him one of his brooms from home. As jealous as he may be, there was no point in trying to hold Harry back. He wasn't like any of Draco's other friends. Crabbe and Goyle could be pushed around, made fools of and take it in stride. It helped that both of them were as dumb as bricks. Pansy and he had a special relationship that consisted of snarky remarks and gaining amusement from other's suffering. But Harry was sort of... honorable. He had that crafty side to him that fit right in with the rest of the Slytherins, but sometimes he was just such a  _ Gryffendor. _   
  
Like today, for example. Draco had been getting quite a laugh out of hovering Longbottom's plate above his head, threatening to dump the peas all over his fat, stupid face. A second later, the plate went straight back down to the table with a thud. Draco had turned around, ready to face Mcgonagall's angry stare, when he was instead met with Harry's glare.   
  
"I see you've been improving," Draco hissed with a sneer. "You don't need to spoil my fun to practice."   
  
"And what fun was that, Draco?"   
  
He narrowed his eyes at his friend and bit back the slew of nasty remarks that threatened to come out. Harry was his friend, he reminded himself, no matter how far that heroic streak went.   
  
"Lighten up, Potter," Blaise said cheerfully past a mouthful of potatoes. "It's just a joke. No one even got hurt."   
  
"Yes," Harry said in a cold voice, "i'm  _ sure _ hot food all over your face feels like nothing, then."   
  
Blaise stopped chewing and looked at Draco for help. He shook his head a little and backed down, not willing to get into the argument any further. He had a bad feeling Harry knew exactly what hot food poured on his face felt like.   
  
"What's after lunch?" Pansy interrupted in a sweet voice, steering the conversation away.   
  
"Herbology."   
  
A chorus of groans went up from the table, and Harry cracked a small smile at last. Draco smiled back in return, he couldn't help it, it was infectious.   
  
"Ready for some dirt under your nails, Potter?" Blaise asked, wiggling his fingers at him.   
  
Draco's smile fell away instantly. Really, Blaise had a talent for finding things that ruined Harry's mood and he could see the hint of a frown forming on the boy's lips already. Another memory of something that made him unhappy, another secret Draco didn't know.   
  
"I am sure I can handle it," Harry replied easily before gesturing across the table, "it's Draco you should be worried about. I imagine the dirt and humidity will 'ruin' his perfect hair and skin."   
  
"I will cast a spell to keep myself protected."   
  
"How humble of you."   
  
"'Humble' is not a word in my dictionary, Harry."   
  
The dark-haired boy laughed and shook his head. "Noted."   
  
The rest of the group started gathering their bags to head out to the greenhouses, while Draco lingered behind with Potter. He was dreading going into that hot, disgusting place, but he also dreaded the effect it would have on Harry. He needn't have worried, it seemed, because Harry was smiling as he joined him on the front steps.   
  
"What's got you so happy?"   
  
"I'm plotting ways to get soil in your hair," Harry replied with a smirk.   
  
"Remember that promise of poison?" Draco asked, spinning his wand through his fingers.   
  
Harry just laughed and pushed onwards across the lawn. He seemed to be alright, so Draco opted to forget that frown from before, and focus on a shielding spell to protect his precious hair.   
  
It did not work, and Harry did, indeed, find a way to get soil in his hair. Draco almost convinced him to eat a mushroom before Longbottom came rushing over yelling about poison. At least Draco was learning  _ something _ in that class.   
  
"I cannot believe you  _ actually _ tried to poison me!" Harry whined on their way back up to the castle. Everyone was sweaty, dirty, and miserable.   
  
"I keep my promises, Harry."   
  
"I could have died."   
  
"Actually, you would have turned blue and lived for about an hour before dying. That's plenty of time to save you."   
  
Harry shook more dirt off onto Draco, until he managed to elbow him away, sending him off ahead of him laughing.   
  
"Thanks, now I need three showers," Draco grumbled, pushing the main doors open. "And we've still got flying lessons and Astronomy tonight."   
  
"Oh, right..."   
  
Draco stopped and peered at Harry, who was shuffling awkwardly and not meeting his eyes.   
  
"'Oh, right' what?"   
  
"Um..." Harry scratched the back of his head and shuffled more. "I'm not a part of the flying class anymore. I've got to meet Flint later to practice on my own, so I'll be missing Astronomy as well."   
  
Draco curled his fingers into fists. Not only was Harry getting special practice, he was allowed to miss classes now, too? Was this what it was like to be the 'boy who lived', you got free passes all around?   
  
"Well how great for  _ you _ , then," Draco snapped, spinning on his heel and stalking all the way down to the dungeons in a quiet rage. He could feel Harry following behind him, but thankfully he remained silent for the rest of the journy. When they reached the dormitory, Draco left him sitting on his bed looking at the floor while he went to shower.   
  
After a fierce scrubbing, several shampooings and a drying spell, Draco was feeling a lot better about the whole thing. It wasn't Harry's fault everyone had to treat him like a prince, they're the idiots who put him on the spot. Harry always tried to stay out of things, blend in with the crowd and be 'normal'. Really, it wasn't fair to Harry, and Draco felt like a bit of an ass for taking it out on him for it. So he pulled his trousers on and grabbed his shirt before running out to speak with him.   
  
"Harry, look I..." Draco stopped when he saw his friend hunched over in the same spot where he left him. He looked small, and miserable. Draco decided enough was enough and launched himself into Harry's bed at a run. The boy squawked and nearly flew off the other side, making Draco grin from his newly claimed spot on his bed.   
  
"I'll be taking this then, it's only fair," he said, stretching out on his stomach and looking at his nails.   
  
"Taking what..." Harry looked him over and made a face. "My  _ bed _ ?!"   
  
"Yes. It's mine now."   
  
Harry shuffled a little closer, still not quite catching on. "But it's exactly the same as your bed." He glanced between Draco and his pillow and added, "isn't it?"   
  
Draco rocked back and forth for a moment and looked back up at the worried boy thoughtfully. "Hmm, no. I believe your bed is softer. It's mine now, I have claimed it for the Malfoy family."   
  
"You're bonkers!" Harry burst out and started laughing. "I really thought—"   
  
"That I wanted your bed? Harry,  _ really _ ..." Draco sat up and started to pull his shirt on, giving Harry a look. "Did you really think I wouldn't make sure I got the softest bed in here beforehand?"   
  
Harry just snorted and threw himself back on the bed, a smile slowly returning to his face. Draco jumped a little when he suddenly reached over and started buttoning up his shirt for him.   
  
"You sure you even know how to do this? I never see you in anything with buttons."   
  
"Oh shove it," Harry grumbled, doing up the last button with a flourish. "It's not my fault all Dudley can fit in is tshirts."   
  
"Dudley? Who cares about Dudley, i'm talking about you."   
  
Harry's smile slipped away as easily as it came, and Draco knew he stepped on another land mine. "These are his clothes that in wearing. They're hand-me-downs."   
  
"They're hand me what? Why are you wearing someone else's clothes? Who does that?" Draco asked incredulously.   
  
" _ I  _ do that," Harry snapped, pulling his hands back sharply. "That's what they give me to wear, so I wear them."   
  
Draco stared at him, and couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner. Of course he didn't like the clothing he wore, who would enjoy looking like a match stick swathed in a sea of stripes? He looked ridiculous, and grungy to boot. Why on earth would someone do that to Harry, not when he was treated like a royal around Hogwarts. He knew there was something off about that family, if those scars meant anything.   
  
"Aren't there clothing shops in Muggle London?" he asked, drawing his thoughts back to the less delicate topic.   
  
"Sure, for people who can pay."   
  
"Did your aunt and uncle not have money, then? Wait," Draco paused and narrowed his eyes, "wasn't your family one of the richest in the wizarding world?"   
  
Harry shrugged and picked at the hem of his usual baggy, stripy shirt. "I 'spose so. But I didn't even know about it until recently and the Dursleys didn't have money for me, just Dudley."   
  
"Those... Those arseholes!"   
  
Harry hissed and looked around the room for any listeners. They had been mostly quiet when discussing his family issues until Draco shouted. He turned back once he was sure no one else was paying attention.   
  
"It's not a big deal, Draco. I'm used to them by now, anyway."   
  
"Well i'm  _ not _ ," Draco huffed, "we're going shopping over the holiday."   
  
"Shopping?"   
  
Draco nodded his head and crossed his arms, daring Harry to argue. "Shopping for you."   
  
"For me? But..."   
  
"No 'but's. We are getting you actual clothes and that's final."   
  
Harry leaned back and let out a short huff of disbelieving laughter. "Alright, alright," he relented at last, "whatever makes you happy."   
  
Draco beamed at him and said, "precisely."   
  


* * *

  
  
Harry was standing nervously on the sideline of the Quiddich pitch. He was probably early, that's why no one was here. Harry checked his watch for the third time, and it told him for the third time that Harry had been on time and Flitch was almost an hour late.   
  
Harry wasn't sure what was going on, anymore. He didn't even have a broom, what was he supposed to do, run around the field? It didn't help that the only things he knew about Quiddich was from Draco's crash course before he ran off to his flying class.   
  
A familiar sense of panic started to well up in his chest and another seed of doubt started to grow. What had professor Mcgonagall said the other day? 'Pure talent' and a 'fast learning curve'. It was nice words from someone Harry had continuously let down. He still wasn't able to transfigure anything properly, mostly because all his attempts with Draco ended up doing something completely different. They both decided it would be safer for him to fail in the class for now, rather than killing small animals.

 

He was doing alright in Charms, waving his wand like everyone else while he focused in a completely different way. Draco had been right, in the end, it was about making a connection through himself rather than the wand. Now all Harry had to worry about was someone noticing he wasn't actually using his wand, that and the possibility of things spontaneously blowing up if he didn't like them.   
  
"Potter!" came a voice from behind him. Harry turned just in time to catch the broom Flint tossed his way.   
  
"You ready to show me what you got?" Flint asked with a smirk. "I've heard high praise from the Gryffindor house head, not so much from ours, though."   
  
Harry clutched the broom to his chest and tried not to let out a whimper. "I, uh, haven't really had a chance to impress him yet."   
  
Flint just laughed and flicked his wand at the large trunk floating behind him, making it drop to the ground with a heavy thud. "I've been here for a lot longer than you have, and I've never seen Snape impressed with anyone."   
  
"Good to know," Harry said with a sheepish smile.   
  
"Don't stop trying, though. If anyone can do it, I'd probably be you." Flint kicked open trunk and grinned at Harry. "Now, time to impress  _ me _ . Show me what you can do, Potter."   
  
As soon as he was up in the air, all his worries disappeared. He was zooming through the air as fast as he could go, making sharp turns as he reached the end of the pitch. It felt good to move without second guessing everything he did. Was it good enough, did he do it right, did he fail? He didn't care, it felt amazing and he was going to enjoy it as long as he could.   
  
"I'm letting the snitch out now!" Flint shouted from below, and a second later there was a flash of gold in the air swooping past him.   
  
Harry fallowed it with his eyes until it promptly changed direction and disappeared. He scowled and slowed down his broom to look around the field. He spotted it a moment later, flitting around the goal posts on the far end. Harry bit his lip and took off down the field at top speed, chasing it as it flew out of his reach. He caught the snitch three seconds later and waved to Flinch with it clutched in his fist.   
  
"Good job! Now, again!"   
  
Harry beamed, let it go, and started all over again.   
  
  
Two hours later, Harry was sweaty, dirty, and sore all over. A few of his Wronski Feints ended with him on the ground, but over all he managed to pull up just in time. Flint cheered for him every time, getting a glint in his eye that worried Harry a little bit. The man was already making plans for the season, and Harry had a feeling he was now a key part of those plans.    
  
"You're definitely our new Seeker," Flint said with a knowing smirk, offering a hand out to him. "Welcome to the team, Potter."   
  
Harry smiled almost the entire way back to the castle, his mind running through the events of the day. He had managed to make the team, but Draco would probably be upset. That put somewhat of a damper on his celebration and with a worried frown, he pushed open the front doors. He nearly stumbled back at the wave of sound bursting out from the great hall. Supper had already began, and Harry was too much of a mess to join them. So he turned away from the warmth and food and shuffled down to the dungeons on his own.   
  
He really was pretty gross, at this point. He should have at least showered after working in the greenhouse. Now he had an entire day's worth of grime and sweat on him, on top of the chunks of grass in his hair. He stepped through the portal and was stopped by a sudden shout.   
  
"Harry!"   
  
Harry blinked and looked up to see Draco sitting on the couch with a smug smile, balancing two plates on his lap.   
  
"What's going on, Draco?"   
  
"Well, I was going to say come eat and then shower, but I can smell you from all the way over here. Shower first if you plan on coming near me."   
  
"What, you don't want more dirt in your hair?" Harry joked, creeping closer with a mischievous grin.   
  
Draco squirmed across the couch, holding the plates away from him. "Don't you dare! After I got you dinner and everything."   
  
"Alright, alright. I'll go shower." Harry paused and looked down at his ruined robes, adding, "I can't stand the smell of myself, to be honest."   
  
"Imagine how I feel, then, and get to it."   
  
"Yes, yes." Harry waved him off and headed for the dormitory. Just as he reached the door, he paused and looked back. Draco was still sitting on the couch, stealing something from one of the plates while he hummed to himself.   
  
"Draco..."   
  
"Hmm?" Draco looked up, trying to look innocent with a drip of sauce on his face.   
  
"Thank you," Harry muttered, and hurried off to shower so he could enjoy the dinner Draco had saved for him.   
  
  


 


	5. Brave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ergh sorry for this chapter.

 

 

 

Of course it had to be the third-floor corridor, because where else would Potter be? Perhaps a normal —or, in his case, far above normal— lifestyle was simply not enough. Because Potter had to snoop, had to see just what it was that giant oaf eluded to during their visit. And all because of Potter's need for meddling, Draco had to be in the third-floor corridor with him.

 

 

"I'm freezing!"

 

"Shhh!"

 

"Your shush was louder than my complaint," Draco groused, peering around a corner. They had only seen that bloody cat _six_ times now and had to hide in the shadows every time. It took nearly an hour to get here, yet Harry persisted, as stubborn, fat headed—

 

Harry's voice called out from the dark end of the hall, "Just _help_ me."

 

He would get back to cursing his best friend later, after they stopped playing those 'muggle inspectors' Harry had tried to use as an example of why he should come along. Mysteries be damned, he just wanted to finish his homework and go to sleep. With a huff, Draco crept closer in the darkness, hand waving around to find Harry.

 

" _Lumos_ ," he muttered, and made a point to seep the word in all his bitterness.

 

"There's a door," Harry said as the light lit up his flushed face. He looked eager, and Draco considered jinxing him right then and there to put a stop to all this. Perhaps Jelly legs?

 

Harry gave him a look, insisting, "Help me with the door."

 

"Harry, why are we here? All the oaf- _Hagrid_ said was there was something being kept safe. For all we know, it's his dignity."

 

Harry's eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch, and Draco ticked off another mark on his 'Things That Make Harry Angry' list. He was starting to understand the boy's expressions on a level that, frankly, scared him a little. Still, it would do his father proud to know how easily he was able to manipulate the one and only Harry Potter.

 

"Sorry," he said, and no, perhaps his father would not be _quite_ so proud. A Malfoy never apologizes, and his list for things that made his father angry was considerably longer.

 

"If you don't want to be here, you can leave. I offered the same back at Hagrid's place."

 

"And I stayed, it's a reoccurring theme, get used to it, Harry."

 

"He isn't missing his dignity."

 

"I said I was sorry," Draco said with a roll of his eyes.

 

Harry yanked on the door hopelessly, his voice coming out strained, "yes, but... you... didn't... mean it! Augh, it's stuck fast."

 

"Oh, _move_." Draco shoved Harry to the side and peered at the lock."hmmm... _Alohomora_!"

 

There was a soft click before Draco straightened up and pulled the door open, giving Harry a smug look.

 

"Do I even want to know why you know a spell for unlocking doors?"

 

Draco twiddled his wand between his fingers and replied, "I have been... exploring my fathers study for some years now. He really ought to put better spells on it. The hexes were hardly worth my time."

 

It was a lie, his father's study was so well sealed, even the dust gathered at the doorway and did not past. Draco had tried to get into his study, and had taught himself as many spells as he could to try to break in. He had failed, but Harry didn't need to know that.

 

Harry's expression was somewhere between amazement and doubt. Draco mentally patted himself on the back for being the one to put it there.

 

There was a growl.

 

Draco let go of the door handle instantly, and raised his wand to light up the corridor behind them.

 

"Did you—"

 

"—hear that?" Harry whispered, suddenly right by his side. The corridor was empty, yet Draco could not shake the feeling something was watching them. Even the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up.

 

No, they seemed to be swaying in the breeze, which was odd for being inside and...

 

There was another growl, and Draco recognized the feeling on his neck as a hot breath.

 

"CLOSE THE DOOR!" He screamed, spinning around and pushing Harry back behind him.

 

Just through the crack in the door, was a snout, no, three snouts, all filled with sharp teeth and drool. Draco froze, lit wand raised, and vaguely wondered if the light would go out if he used another spell. He had never needed to before, since his life had previously lacked adventure and so many big dogs.

 

The door suddenly closed on their snouts, the dogs yelping and pulling them back inside. Draco just stared at the place where they were before muttering a locking spell and promptly turning around to glare at Harry. His glare only lasted a moment, because Harry was standing their looking just as terrified as Draco had felt, his flushed cheeks now a deathly pale.

 

"That... That was not what I expected."

 

Draco's snapped, "what else did you expect? That giant loves his bloody, great beasts! Of course it was something like this!"

 

Harry took a step back, ducking his face behind his shaggy hair. He looked so sheepish, so worried, Draco just had to take pity on him and gave him a quick hug, practically a pat on the back, really. But as soon as he was close enough, Harry's arms wrapped around him and Draco almost squeaked when his quick hug turned into a much longer one. Harry was downright clinging to him, and he really didn't know what to do with all that... need. Since when had he been this scared? Wasn't the one winging on and on about adventure and mystery?

 

"Harry... it's alright, Harry," he said softly, resting his chin on the shorter boy's head. "We are safe."

 

" _Dogs_..."

 

"What?"

 

Harry whispered louder, "dogs... never liked me very much."

 

Draco hummed, giving Harry's back an experimental pat. He had never been hugged like this before, it was usually something he watched others do with a sneer. It was sort of disgusting, too much affection and it all seemed so fake.

 

But, once again, Harry seemed to need it, so Draco stood there awkwardly and let his back grow stiff from the never ending hug. When the cold started to seep in, Draco decided enough was enough.

 

"Alright," he growled, pushing Harry away far more gently than he would anyone else. "We're safe and fine and dandy and _freezing_. I want to go to bed, and i'm really no longer curious about what's in this bloody corridor."

 

Harry's eyes lit up with amusement, a wry smile forming across his lips. "So you were curious, huh?"

 

"Curious to watch you fail, yes."

 

"Git."

 

Draco ignored him and brushed by, extinguish his wand light as he reached the corner. No need to draw that cat's attention, or anyone else's for that matter.

 

"A giant git," Harry added from behind him and Draco kept on going until he heard a soft, "Thank you."

 

Then, smiling to himself, he finally let Harry catch up, giving him a friendly elbow to the side. Because Potter was such an irritating 'inspector', and somehow always found a way to snoop right past Draco's protective walls that were supposed to keep stupid, snooping people out.

* * *

 

Draco had been sulking all the way through their morning rituals. Sulkily rolling out of bed, sulkily brushing his teeth, sulkily getting dressed, sulkily staring at nothing while he tried to wake up.When Harry had finally had enough, he left his friend to sulk and went off to breakfast alone.

 

He really ought to be used to it by now, Draco's fickle moods and heavy grudges. Harry wasn't quite convinced he had been forgiven for the flying lessons yet, never mind last night. Then again, maybe he was forgiven a little since Draco was still planning on helping him figure out his magic later that day. Then again, last night might have been pushing his friendship a little too far. Draco—both of them—had been in danger and Harry was the one who led them there.

 

Harry frowned as he slipped into his usual place at the table, ignoring Pansy's usual comment about his 'boyfriend' that came up any time he came in alone. Which was rather often, since Draco was never much of a morning person. He had to ask Blaise  what the word meant and thankfully, for once, the boy didn't make fun of him. Harry did end up spending an entire day afterward blushing whenever he saw Pansy, or Draco, or anyone really. Besides, he was never going to have a 'relationship' with someone. If it was as Blaise  described, that was what his aunt and uncle had, and he certainly didn't want to be like them.

 

But right now, there were more important things to worry about, like why there were three huge dogs locked up in the castle, and why on earth were they so important. With a glance up at the teacher's table, Harry confirmed what he already knew. Hagrid was there, but seemed to be looking anywhere but in Harry's direction. Several seats down, Snape was staring at him like a snake, his eyes following Harry's every movement. Professor Quirrell was also looking, which made Harry wonder if the two of them had just been talking about him. He looked away quickly, before they found some excuse to take house points away.

 

Neither of them seemed to like him very much, although in Quirrell's case, Harry understood. After all, he had failed the first few weeks of his in-class work thanks to his panic about the magic. Snape, however, simply hated him. Even if he did well in his class, which he was, thanks to Draco finally being paired with him. Draco knew how to translate Snape's instructions in a way that actually made sense to Harry. The last three potions had been so spot on, all Snape could do about it was sniff disapprovingly at their chopping methods and move on to berate Ron for failing spectacularly, yet again.

 

Harry went back to trying to catch Hagrid's eye and was finding it to be an impossible task. It stung, a bit, considering Harry had been nothing but kind to him, even when the man had started to try to feed them those god-awful cakes. Why didn't he trust Harry a little more? He had seen the caretaker spend time with Ron and his friends, but he always became awkward when Harry tried to speak with him. It wasn't like that in the beginning, in fact, Harry remembered the man treating him much nicer when he first arrived. The only reason he was able to coheres any information out of him during their visit was the fact that he, sort of, _blackmailed_ him. It was Draco's idea, really, but Harry used his knowledge about Hagrid's trip to the volt to get him to talk.

 

The entire ordeal sent a wave of guilt through him, and Harry tried to focus on his food instead. Eggs, fried ham, toast with beans. A screech announced the incoming mail, and Harry looked up to watch the room fill with owls. What he did not expect was to see his very own owl—along with several others— carrying a ridiculously long package and heading right for him. Harry gasped, grabbed his plate out of the way, and ducked back just in time for the trio of owls to come in for a sloppy landing. One of the smaller ones skidded right into Harry's neighbor's plate, leaving the other two to land heavily where his plate once was.

 

"Sorry, sorry!" Harry rushed out, shooing the owls from the table after giving them a few tidbits of his toast. When he turned back to the package, he felt a familiar prickle on the back of his neck. He glanced behind him, eyes skirting past the students gaping at him from other tables, and looked up at the teachers. He seemed to have their attention as well, and Harry was about to turn away again when a sharp, searing pain coursed through his skull. He cried out, slapping a hand over his forehead as he hunched over. Even grinding the palm of his hand into his scar didn't seem to help. He swore he was about two seconds away from passing out, when the pain suddenly stopped.

 

“... is he? Someone help... would you... are you alright there, Harry?" Came Pansy's voice came through the haze in Harry's mind.

 

Head still down, he responded shakily, "y-yes... I think so."

 

"Harry, what's wrong?!"

 

Harry turned to see Draco rushing towards him with a rare look of concern on his face. He savored it for a solid minute before Draco spotted the package and it morphed back into his usual blank expression.

 

"Is that what I _think_ it is?" He asked slowly.

 

"Depends on what you think it is."

 

"That's a broom, Harry, what else could it be?"

 

Harry blinked up at him dumbly before looking at the long package. He hadn't thought of that, because it was impossible, right?

 

"But... who would send me a—"

 

"It's a Nimbus 2000!" Pansy squealed, peeling back the wrapping on the other side.

 

Draco's eyes narrowed, and he elbowed a boy out of the way to sit down next to Harry. "Who sent this?"

 

Harry frowned at his tone and preceded to rip off the rest of the paper. It was beautiful, brand new and shiny, and each bristle was perfectly in place. Harry reached out to stroke it, eyes wide in awe, when a pale hand stopped him.

 

"Draco, what?"

 

Draco was staring at it, his usually bright gray eyes dark with suspicion. "I haven't even written to my father yet."

 

"So?"

 

" _So_ , who is this from, if not from my parents?" He asked darkly, pulling Harry's hand away from the broom. "This could be cursed."

 

"By who? Merlin, Draco, you're just jealous because he got a broom and you didn't!" Pansy snapped, sitting back down and crossing her arms. Draco sneered at her and turned to Harry, leaning in to whisper, "That's not... that's _not_ it, i'm just..."

 

"Worried?"

 

Draco nodded silently and Harry almost laughed at the way he swallowed nervously and looked around as though people might find out.

 

After a pause, he asked quietly, "You're absolutely sure your father didn't send this?"

 

"He couldn't have known, I was going to wait until... well, _Crab_ wanted to throw you a party, and I was going to give it to you then."

 

Harry snorted at the idea of Crab wanting to do anything that required work and looked back at his beautiful broom. Well, not his, yet. He wasn't touching a cursed broomstick.

 

"What should I..." Harry trailed off when he saw Professor Macgonagall striding towards them. "Oh hells."

 

"Mr. Potter, as I am sure you know, first years are not to own their own broomsticks," she said as she approached them and stopped, eyeing the broomstick with a hint of appreciation. "...Even if you _are_ on the team."

 

"I didn't ask for it, I swear. I don't even have anyone who would have sent it, honest."

 

“Then, you have no idea who sent this to you?” she asked, her posture shifting. Her expression changed immediately into suspicion. “I'm afraid I will have to take that away from you, Potter.”

 

“What?!” Blaise  yelped, standing in his seat. “Professor, that's not _fair_!”

 

Macgonagall gave him a cool look. “We will run some tests on it and return it to him before the first game. He can manage practice on the school brooms just fine.”

 

“But... Nimbus 2000,” Blaise  whined.

 

“Would you rather Potter be hurt, or even killed, because 'Nimbus 2000'?”

 

Harry snorted loudly at her use of Blaise 's phrasing and slapped a hand over his mouth, ducking his head in embarrassment. Draco gave him a, “How do you think this is funny?” look and turned away to watch the professor levitate Harry's broom off the table. There was clatter up at the staff table, and all eyes turned to see Professor Snape standing, a flash of anger in his eyes. He looked around awkwardly for a moment before pulling his cloak around him and striding out after Macgonagall.  
  
“What... was that about?” Draco asked as the billowing cloak disappeared.

 

Harry bit his lip and fidgeted in his seat. Was Snape angry about the broomstick, and why? He might not even be able to keep it, so it wasn't fair that he take away points or get him in trouble. What if Harry _was_ in trouble for having the broomstick?

 

“You don't think...” Harry began nervously, glancing at Draco and the door again, “You don't think he will take it away or break it, do you?”

 

Draco bit his lip and followed Harry's gaze to the door. His jaw jutted out suddenly, and he stood, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him along behind him. “Come on, we are not letting him.”

 

“Wha... Draco, wait!” Harry sputtered, stumbling after him past the other tables. Draco pushed through the door and started down the hall before Snape's voice stopped them both dead in their tracks. Harry grabbed the back of the blond's shirt and pulled him into a small alcove as the voices drew closer.  
  
“... do not need to run everything by you, the Headmaster already approved it.”

 

“Severus, the poor boy thought he was going to be cursed.”  
  
Harry could hear the sneer in Snape's voice from all the way across the corridor. “Potter may not be the sharpest , but he's not foolish enough to—“

 

“That is not the _point_ ,” Macgonagall interrupted sharply, “All you had to do was warn us you were ordering a broomstick for him, and he wouldn't have had it taken away from him.”

 

Harry's jaw dropped, and Draco covered his own mouth, a huff of laughter escaping past his fingers. The voices moved away, and both of them peeked out to find the corridor empty once more.

 

“Did Professor Snape just...?”

 

“Did he _buy_ me a broomstick?”

 

Draco and Harry looked at one another for a long moment before their faces screwed up with the attempt to keep laughter at bay. They ran back into the hall and gave in at last, laughing so hard they could barely hear the others questioning their sanity. They kept it a secret, for now, because even if Snape did buy Harry a broom, he would still make their lives a living hell if anyone else found out what a big softy he really was.

 


	6. Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween is upon them, with feasts and sweets galore. But, with halloween comes a surprise visit from a troll, and the possibility of a new friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies, for not only such a late update, but for an un-edited chapter to boot. I wasn't sure if I would work on this again, since writing for the Potter world requires some extra work to keep all the names and times and spells correct. But, well, here it is.

 

 

There was a large, sweaty hand wrapped around Harry’s arm, tugging him this way and that without a single care for Harry’s safety. In fact, each tug on his arm sent him crashing into another sharp-edged object. Even when he cried out in pain, the owner of the hand ignored it and carried on dragging him through room after room. 

 

He couldn’t see the stranger’s face, but there was no one else in the world who had fingers like that. Harry knew those hands all too well. He knew every chewed nail, every fat, squat finger that curled into the skin of arms and left bruises that didn’t fade for weeks. He knew the fist it made just before striking him. These was Uncle Vernon’s hands, trapping him in a never ending spiral of pain. 

 

“P-please stop!” Harry begged, making a grab for a table leg as the passed through another unfamiliar room. The table gave way, causing Harry to stumble and fall to the floor. The hand never lost its grip on him, but seemed to grow tighter, more encompassing. Harry was being smothered now, Vernon’s fat hands covering his eyes, his nose, his mouth. 

 

Harry tried to scream. 

 

No, he was screaming. Screaming, and screaming, and screaming as loud as he could. 

 

“Harry!”

 

“Nonononoplease—“

 

“Harry, for Merlin’s sake, stop flailing about!” Someone yelled at him, and hands were on him again. Harry did not stop flailing, but did, in fact, lash out more. 

 

“Let go!”

 

“I’m not even—It’s me, you great birk,” the voice snapped, drawing Harry out of the last dregs of his dream at last. 

 

And he knew those hands, too. Smaller, much more frail, with sharp nails at the end that felt razor sharp when dug into his arm like that. 

 

“…Draco?”

 

“No,” the boy sneered, “it’s Mordred. Of course it’s me. No one else has the guts to come wake you when you’re screaming like that.”

 

“I was screaming?” Harry asked, and cleared his throat. It did feel rough. “I’m sorry, again.”

 

“It was more like loud croaking sound,” Blaise  called out, appearing by Draco’s shoulder already dressed. “We let you go on, since Draco here was guarding your bed and hissing at anyone who came close or had a complaint.”

 

“I was _not_ —!” 

 

“I thought he was going to bite Goyle. Near thing, I swear.”

 

“Don’t listen to him, Harry, he’s lost the plot entirely.”

 

“To be honest, i’m not really listening to either of you,” Harry admitted, sitting up and reaching for his glasses. He managed to find them while the other two bickered, and gave Draco a small shove. “Come on, let me up.”

 

Draco muttered something, undoubtably nasty, under his breath and stalked off to gather his own clothes. Harry watched him go with a small sigh. Draco and his ever changing moods. Some day he swore the boy would drive him mad.

 

“Don’t mind him,” Blaise  said, leaning in closer to whisper. “He’s just worried about you. You know there’s a portion that helps you sleep, right?”

 

“A potion?” Harry asked, suddenly more awake. “How do I get it?”

 

“Madam Pomfrey might give it to you, but she can be stingy. I’d say your best bet is Professor Snape.”

 

Harry wrinkled his nose at that. Snape may have bought him a broomstick—a very good and _expensive_ broomstick—but that didn’t mean the man liked him any better. He still sneered at every minuscule mistake he made in potions, and Harry still got that cold feeling when he looked up at the teacher’s table. Which was odd, really, because his hated for Harry didn’t seem to match. Why would he buy him a broom? It made no sense at all.

 

“I think I’ll try Madam Pomfrey first,” Harry said slowly. “She’s the nurse, right?”

 

“He doesn’t even know who the nurse is?” Draco yelled from where he was pulling on his robes. 

 

“Oh leave off,” Blaise  called back, the boy finally beginning to show signs of irritation. “Stop moping about and get ready for class.”

 

Once again, Draco muttered to himself, giving them both a half-hearted glare before heading for the bathroom. “Fine, I’ll be fixing my hair if anyone _cares_ to find me.”

 

“And that’s my cue to get dressed,” Harry added, giving Blaise  a small smile before heading for his trunk. 

 

“Hurry up, then, and don’t worry ‘bout missing breakfast, tonight’s feast is going to be excellent!”

 

Harry look up from collecting a miss-matched pair of socks and asked, “Why?”

 

“It’s Halloween, of course.”

 

Harry flinched, and tried to hide it by digging into his trunk again. Harry did not have fond memories of Halloween, at all. When he was younger, he never even knew the holiday existed, By the time he was old enough for school, all the other kids chattered about how wonderfully fun it was. Of course, it wasn’t anything wonderful for him, as usual. Just another day for Dudley to eat sweets and remind Harry how he wasn’t apart of it. In fact, Harry had long since forgotten that Halloween existed, having spent the last few years under the stairs, ignoring Dudley’s yelling about how little candy he received, and reading whatever book he managed to take out from the school library that day.

 

Harry frowned down at the socks in his hands. They were a hideous yellow, several sizes too big, and sporting a lovely hole in one toe. What they really were, were horribly embarrassing, and Harry quickly tucked them into his bundle of clothes so Blaise  wouldn’t see him. But, by the time he looked up again, the other boy was long gone.

 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry gave the room a final check-over and stripped his pajamas off quickly. He didn’t want anyone else seeing his scars, and Draco would start asking questions if he noticed it again. He was so absorbed in getting dressed, he failed to notice the blonde re-entering the room. 

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Harry jumped about a foot in the air and spun around, nearly falling on his arse as one shoe side loose. “Draco! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

 

Draco cackled and gave him a wicked grin. “Boo!” 

 

“Oh, I’m _terrified_ ,” Harry said, dryly. “And i’m fine, let’s go.”

 

“Admit it, I scared you.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, grabbing his bag and chasing after Draco as the blonde ran down the stairs singing, “ Scaredy cat Potter, thinks he’s tough. Should have been sorted in Hufflepuff!” 

 

* * *

 

 

For some horrid reason, the rhyme caught on with everyone who heard it. By lunch time, Ron was singing it loudly with his brothers, and later, Harry swore he heard someone humming the tune in the library during his free period.

 

_I am going to murder Draco_ , he thought, glaring down at his Transfiguration essay. He’d only managed to get three lines done before the humming distracted him. Now, he wanted nothing more than to curl back up in his bed and sleep. Or, perhaps he would leave some sticky and crawly on Draco’s bed. Nothing too horrid, but something that would stick to his perfect, blonde hair when he laid down to sleep.

 

Harry grinned nastily, and doodled a tiny stick figure Draco crying and waving his arms around. 

“Oh, Harry Potter!” an unfamiliar voice called out. 

 

Harry looked up from his scribbling and frowned at the bushy-haired girl who was rushing towards him. There was a hiss from the librarian to, ‘be _silent_ and stop _running_ ,’ making the girl blush and stammer an apology before calmly stealing a seat across from him. 

 

“Er… hello.”

 

“You _are_ Harry Potter, aren’t you?” she asked, leaning over her pile of books and studying him critically. 

 

“That’s what my trunk says,” Harry replied, not liking the way she said his name. 

 

“Oh wonderful, i’m so glad to have found you at last. I have a few questions about our charms homework and no one else seems to _care_.” She sniffed with distaste and began pulling out roll after roll of parchment. Next came her ink, quill, and several more books to add to her stack. 

 

“I’m not sure i’m the one to ask,” Harry insisted, leaning away from her as the pile of homework seemed to crawl across the table towards him. “I haven’t been able to do a single spell in that class.”

 

 

The girl waved a dismissive hand at him before pulling out her wand. “It’s not all wand work, you do have to understand the fundamentals before you can begin the practice.”

 

“I’m not really sure i’ve got those down, either.”

 

“But I saw you taking notes.”

 

“It doesn’t mean I understand them,” Harry shot back, covering his doodle with a hand. Of course he had find the only student more addicted to studying than Draco. It was just his luck. 

 

“But you took such _lovely_ notes,” she pointed out, as if that made everything alright. “I just need to know what you wrote down for the levitation charm today. I couldn’t seem to get the hang of it.”

 

“Look, I don’t even know who you—“

 

“Hermione.” She offered him her hand with a smile. “Hermione Granger.” 

 

Harry shook her hand, feeling awkward. Once again, he was without a proper introduction. Everyone already knew his name. 

 

“Right… so, um, my notes. I think it was ‘Winggard Leviohsaw?’” 

 

“Oh no, no. It’s _Winggardium leviosa_ , and a swish and flick. I know all that, I simply wanted to know if you caught any of the history behind it. I was a bit distracted by my… partner’s difficulties with the spell.”

 

Frowning to himself, Harry dug through his notes from the day. _He_ hadn’t managed to levitate the feather either. At least he wasn’t alone this time, as he was in most classes. No one else seemed to have any trouble using their wands, and he was starting to wonder if Draco had lied to him. That he was a freak, that it’d been a mistake to allow him to come to Hogwarts. 

 

Harry spotted his messy charm’s notes at the bottom of his bag, and pulled them out. 

 

“I think he said it was invented by…” Harry trailed off, struggling to read his own writing. “Um… Jarleth Hobart. He thought he could fly, and jumped out a window.” 

 

“Oh! Right, and he spelled off all his clothes—“

 

“—and fell down because his clothes were the ones spelled, not him.”

 

Hermione giggled behind her hand, and quickly added some notes to her own. 

 

“I guess you can’t levitate people?” Harry wondered, wishing he’d brought his book with him now. If he’d known he was going to be asked questions, he would have read ahead of time. 

 

“I think,” Hermione began, pulling out her own book and flipping through the pages. “Small objects, maybe. Or, no, it says here animals and children are fine. Although, why on earth anyone would think that was a good idea…”

 

“I imagine it helps when there’s a mess,” Harry replied, thinking of all the times he could have used the charm in his house work. Or, even better, all the times he could have levitated Dudley right out the window. 

 

No, that wouldn’t work, it said _small_ things. Dudley was no small thing. 

 

“Have you practiced it yet?” 

 

Harry blinked at her, having been lost in his imagination. “No, actually. I haven’t had time since this morning.”

 

“So you don't practice before class?” She inquired, looking surprised. “I try every spell coming up in our curriculum before we learn them in class. I don’t always get the movements right, but there were a few times that I got it just right!” 

 

He was torn between her infectious excitement and irritation at only ever managing to explode a cup. But before he could reply, someone else spoke from behind him.

 

“Well no wonder you got it to work, you’re such a know-it-all.” 

 

Hermione’s smile fell instantly, and Harry turned around to find Ron glaring down at the both of them. 

 

“Just because she practices doesn’t make her a know-it-all,” Harry argued. He may not know the girl very well, but there was no need to call her names just for being studious. Draco was the same way, and no one dared to make fun of him. 

 

“She is a know-it-all. A snotty know-it-all.”

 

Before Harry could say anything else, a small sob filled the air behind him, followed shortly by the hurried rustle of paper. Frowning, Harry turned just in time to see Hermione’s eyes fill with tears before she was running out of the library. 

 

“Good job, _mate_ ,” Harry snapped, gathering his papers without bothering to look at the other boy again. 

 

“I didn’t mean to—“

 

Harry gave him a look, and said “Yes you did,” before he grabbed his bag and left. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Draco’s day had started badly, with Harry’s choked screams waking him up, to the silly rhyme he made spreading across the school. It had been a joke, something between them, and in no way had he meant to insult Potter. Not _really_. But, as many things did, it grew out of hand and eventually even that weasel was singing it mockingly. 

 

And now, Harry was stalking towards him in a rage. Oh joy. 

 

“Draco…”

 

At least it wasn’t ‘Malfoy’. 

 

“Please teach me how to levitate things, so I can levitate a big, heavy book over Ron’s head and drop it there.”

 

Draco snorted and fell into step with Harry, heading towards the Great Hall for supper. 

 

“I swear I had no intention of him ever hearing my song,” he assured him. 

 

“That’s not why—well, it’s one reason why, but not the biggest one.”

 

“What’s the biggest one?”

 

“He’s the _biggest_ idiot.”

 

“Ah, yes. Now he learns the truth. Our dear little Potter, disillusioned at last.”

 

Harry elbowed him in the ribs, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “Where’d you even learn a word like that?”

 

“I like to read,” Draco sniffed. “You could try it sometime.”

 

“I’ve changed my mind, I want to drop a book on your head.”

 

“I would like to see you… try… I… _wow_.”

 

Harry’s stepped slowed to a stop beside him, his mouth dropping open in awe. 

 

“Oh _woooow_ ,” he breathed, eyes darting here, there, everywhere.

 

The Great Hall was, on an average day, quite lovely. But tonight, it was filled with ever more candles, with flames casting impossible shadows in the shapes of cats, moons, and pumpkins. And speaking of pumpkins, there were some of the largest ones Draco had ever seen lining the walls of the hall. Each one was glowing from within, and Draco saw several of them wink or grin at the students passing by. The tables, too, were pilled high with an assortment of decorations. Dinner hadn’t appeared yet, but there was already candy strewn about between the cups and plates. 

 

“Oh no…”

 

“What? What is it?” Harry asked, worried. 

 

“Crabbe and Goyle are going to make themselves sick before dinner even begins.”

 

Harry just laughed, and lead the way to their usual spot at the Slytherin table. As he predicted, both boys had already begun stuffing their faces with an assortment of sweets. 

 

“I’m casting a silencing charm around my bed tonight,” Draco grumbled at them, sitting down next to Harry. “There’s no way I’m being kept up by the sounds of your groaning all night.”

 

Crabbe looked up, and grunted past some sort of marshmallow treat sticking out of his mouth. Neither of them seemed to care, and went back to inhaling as much candy as possible. 

 

“That’s another spell I need you to teach me,” Harry whispered in his ear. “I don’t want to keep waking everyone up.”

 

“I could cast it for you, you know.”

 

Harry shook his head. “No, I need to learn these things, even if I can’t use my wand. Plus, you won’t always be there to cast spells for me.”

 

“Yes I will,” Draco replied softly.

 

Before Harry could reply, a cheer went up. The food had arrived, making the tables groan under the weight of hundreds of heavy platters and bowls. Harry’s attention, as usual, was drawn instantly to the food, leaving Draco to feel flushed and embarrassed all by himself. 

 

It wasn’t a completely awkward thing to say, as most Pureblood families made friends for life, but Potter wasn’t a fellow Pureblood and probably didn’t understand that he _meant_ it. 

  
_Or you’re over thinking it_ , Draco mused silently, and filled up his plate. 

There was a great amount of chattering between students, mouth’s full, cheeks flushed with excitement. Everyone was in the holiday spirit, even Harry. 

 

“So what did get your feathers ruffled, anyway?” Draco asked, pushing his plate away after only a second serving. He had to watch what he ate, left he gain wait. Unlike a certain black-haired boy he wouldn’t mention. 

 

Harry glanced up, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk, smile slipping away at Draco’s mention of his bad mood. Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked. 

 

“Her—“ he coughed and swallowed his food before beginning again, “Hermione came to ask me for my notes today, and Ron showed up and made her cry.”

 

“That Weasley kid again?” Draco scowled, looking across at the Gryffindor table. His eyes found the shock of red hair easily, then found two more. “Oh for… he’s singing it again, I can see it.”

 

Harry’s eyes followed his, and his frown deepened. “That’s weird, I don’t see her.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Hermione.”

 

Draco looked along the table, and realized he had no idea who this girl was. He swore he had heard the name before, some mudblood, apparently. 

 

“She's not here,” Harry murmured, starting to look worried. 

 

 

Draco shrugged and said, “Well i’m sure whatever it is she’s doing is—“

 

The Great Hall doors slammed open, making several students scream in surprise. Both he and Harry turned to see Professor Quirrell rushing into the room, face pale and drawn. 

 

“Troll!” He screamed as he ran, “In the dungeons! Troll in the dungeons!”

 

 He stumbled to a stop, his body weaving one way and then the other before muttering, “Thought you ought to know,” and fainting right there in the middle of the hall. 

 

The reaction was instantaneous. Students stood, ready to bolt from the hall to safety, some of the older students even drew their wands, as if to fight. But, before anything could be done, Dumbledore’s voice echoed across the room. 

 

“Students,” he began. “Student’s, please remain calm. Your prefects will lead you back to your common rooms, and you will follow in an orderly fashion. Slytherins, if you would follow the Hufflepuffs to their dormitory for now, we will alert you when the dungeons are clear.” 

 

Everyone stood, following their prefects in nothing close to an orderly fashion. Everyone was talking about the troll, and trying their best to get out of the hall before anyone else. 

 

“Draco!” Harry called out. 

 

Draco turned around, looking for him. He had been right beside him only a second ago. “Harry? Where are you?” 

 

“I have… find… ne!”

 

“What?!” Draco yelled over the crowd, looking for that familiar nest of black hair. “Harry!? Don’t you dare run off!” 

 

Someone elbowed him in the side, sending him stumbling towards the main doors. The crowd was pushing him further and further away from where he last saw Harry. 

 

“Get _away_ from me,” he hissed sharply, jabbing everyone who came close with his wand and threatening anyone who argued with a nasty hex. 

 

And _there_ —behind a group of girls, was a flash of black hair and a pair of ugly glasses. He seemed to be conversing with them, eyes wide with panic. 

 

Draco pushed and shoved his way through the crowd, finally managing to catch ahold of Potter’s arm and pull him closer. “You utter moron!” 

 

“Draco, I need to find Hermione. This girl says she was crying in the bathroom not too long ago.”

 

“What do I care if that mud—girl is off crying somewhere? We need to move, _now_.”

 

Harry held fast, almost dislodging Draco’s hand fro his arm. Starting to really panic now, Draco clutched at him with both hands. 

 

“I care,” Harry stated, and suddenly, there wasn’t a single drop of fear in those green eyes of his.

 

Draco sputtered, trying to find the words that would convince him to leave, come with him, be safe. “Harry, you— _please_ …”

 

“She has no idea there’s a great, big troll lurking around.” 

 

“Which means she’s probably safe in the bathroom!” 

 

“Which means she’s in danger, and i’m going to go find her, and warn he. Whether you like it or not.”

 

Draco swallowed another argument, and stared at the boy hopelessly. There really was no changing his mind when he had it set on something. He should have known he’d be stuck with the second most stubborn person in all of England. 

 

“Fine,” snapped Draco. “But you’re not going alone.”

 

Harry flashed that ridiculous grin of his and said, “ I wouldn’t dream of it,” before taking off down the corridor. 

 

Draco could do nothing more than hold on tightly, and let himself be dragged along. Potter seemed to know where he was going, and several times Draco ended up smashing into people as they rushed past another group of students heading to their common rooms. He didn’t enjoy being tossed around like a sack of Galleons, but the alliterative was possibly loosing sight of Harry, and that was _not_ going to happen. 

 

“Th-there!” he gasped out, pointing at a door to their left. 

 

“How do _you_ know that?” Harry asked, not bothering to stop to let him catch his breath. He barreled through the door, the girl’s name already forming on his lips before something made him freeze. That something, Draco soon found out, was a horrible, near-tangible stench. 

 

“Oh my…” Draco choked, slapping a hand over his mouth and nose to try to block it out. He was about to ask just _what_ curled up and _died_ in here, when a low groan reached his ears. And, really, he didn’t know how he missed it. Perhaps it was the watering of his eyes as the stench burned his nostrils, or perhaps it was because Harry stood in front of him, but there was a very, very large troll standing in the girl’s bathroom with them. 

 

“Don’t… move,” Harry murmured from the side of his mouth, eyes locked on the Troll’s head. Draco didn’t listen, because _troll_ , and slowly slid his wand out of his pocket. 

 

“Potter, so help me, if I die today…”

 

With perfect timing, the stall door between them and the gigantic troll opened, revealing a puffy-eyed, puffy-haired girl. And of course, all hell broke lose, because said girl decided to scream her head off. The troll didn’t like the noise one bit, and instantly lashed out towards her with his club. She ducked in the nick of time, but the club hit the stalls and sent them collapsing on top of her. 

 

“Hermione!?”

 

“Harry, dont—!”

 

Their shouting seemed to confused the troll, and, of course, irritated it more. Before Harry could rush to help his new ‘ _friend’_ , the troll began to swing the club up, and with a grunt, rambled forward to smack them with it. Draco was so sure they were about to die, so very sure, that his hand darted out and grabbed Harry’s wrist without an ounce of shame. He was allowed to be scared, they were going to _die_. 

 

Only, they didn’t. 

 

Because by the troll’s second step, Harry raised a hand and pointed at it. 

 

And, just like the cups Harry had practiced with, the troll exploded. 

 


	7. Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the bloody aftermath of a Troll explosion, things begin to fall apart again. Draco's not speaking to him, the headmaster calls Harry into his office, detention, special lessons, and something much, much worse.

 

 

In a near-perfect silence, the high pitch scream hit the air at a painful pitch, and echoed off the tiles of the restroom. Harry automatically turned to Hermione to help calm her down, or at least apologize for getting troll all over her, and was greeted by a stunned, goo-covered girl, who wasn’t making a single noise. 

 

_Then who was…?_

 

He turned, quietly murmuring Draco’s name. He was horrified by the sound coming from his friend’s mouth. “Draco, please—“

 

“MY _HAIR_!” he wailed, and started scrubbing his hands over his face and hair to get the grossness off. It didn’t do much other than rub it in deeper, and make Draco wail louder. 

 

And that was what he was doing whenprofessor Severus and McGonagall burst through the door, wands raised, questions at the ready. 

 

* * *

 

 

Snape had seen something like this before during the last war. Although, that had been considerably more horrific, considering just _who_ was doing the… exploding. 

 

But there were similarities, like the blue-green blood sprayed across every surface, and the chunks stuck to the ceiling. Chunks that seemed to be slipping free of the ceiling, and coming dangerously close to landing on them. And of course, the children were all too stunned or busy screeching to give their entrance much regard. 

 

“What have you—?” Snape began, only to be interrupted by McGonagall, who’s expression was sharp and unforgiving. 

 

“What _happened_ here?” 

 

“He’s ruined my hair!” Draco shrieked at them, looking less sane by the minute. That was probably Severus’ cue to help him before he really got wound up, but before he could move forward, Potter was speaking in a rush. 

 

“It was a troll—the troll, the one in the dungeons. Well, obviously not anymore, but Her-Hermione was in here, so I came to make sure she was okay, and then there was the troll, and it exploded, and now Draco’s hair is—“

 

“RUINED!” 

 

Potter glanced his way, and added, “… Ruined, right, um… if someone could help him?” 

 

“That explains the situation leading up to the explosion,” Severus drawled, and sent a simple Scourgify to bring an end to the whining and wailing. “And you, Draco, should have better control over yourself. Your father may be vain, but there is no need for you to emulate _everything_ he does.” 

 

Minerva tsked, and said, “Severus, please, there are more important issues to be dealt with right now.”

 

“Precisely my point,” he replied, waving his wand at the ceiling before something else dropped on to Draco’s head and started him up again. Luckily, his comments seem to have left him in a silent sulk. “What happened after you found miss Granger here, and the troll?” 

 

Potter shuffled his feet in the muck, and ducked his head. His movement seemed to remind Minerva that two other children were covered in blood and viscera, and another Scourgify was cast before Potter spoke. 

 

“T-thank you,” he began, sounding no less panicked than before. Which was unnatural, since any idiot with half a brain would know they were in less trouble than they should be, if Minerva had her way. Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy. Something else was clearly at play here, someone was hiding something. 

 

“I… sort of yelled at it, then I waved my wand and it blew up.” 

 

Severus asked, “What spell did you use?” 

 

Which left Potter looked as dumfounded as usual. “Spell?” 

 

“What _spell_ did you use to cause this?” He asked again, gesturing to the slime-coated walls. 

 

“Oh… um… I don’t…” 

 

“You don’t know?”

 

“I don’t—“

 

“He didn’t use a spell!” 

 

Both Severus and Minerva turned their gaze to the bushy-haired Gryffindor girl who interrupted. The girl quelled under the weight of their eyes, and ducked her head as well.

 

_So much for the bravery of lions_ , Severus mused silently. 

 

“He didn’t use a spell, he just sort of—“ the girl reached a hand out, as if you grab at the air. “—reached out, and the troll _exploded_.”

 

Minerva shared a concerned look with him, to which he replied by raising an eyebrow. Wandless, _wordless_ spells? It couldn’t be possible, not in an eleven-year-old boy. It was, undoubtably, some burst of uncontrolled magic, like most children have before their parents help them gain some control. It was a common happenstance, and unsurprising to Severus, considering Potter’s upbringing. He had no parents to show him how to control it, never mind even knowing that magic _existed_ until this very year. 

 

“I… see,” he murmured, and observed the boy give the smallest flinch at his words. There was that hint of a secret again. Draco, apparently, had recovered from his fit, and was standing firmly by Potter’s side like an honorary guard. “Potter, I will see you in my office tomorrow evening, after classes. Miss Granger—“

 

“I shall handle my student, Severus,” minerva interrupted, and cast one last tight-lipped look at the boys before ushering the girl out of the restroom. Both of them looked far more concerned for the girl’s wellbeing than their own, which was a tad insulting. 

 

“We will discuss your detention tomorrow evening, and Mr. Potter, something must be done about your renegade magic. We cannot have you blowing up other students by accident.” 

 

And that seemed to do the trick, Severus though, seeing the boy go sickly pail at his words. Good, he should know the possibilities, and the consequences. Draco, however, opened his mouth to protest, angry words dying on his tongue before he could even begin ranting.

 

“Harry didn’t even _do_ anything wrong, he…” The blonde trailed off, and Severus made note of Potter’s hand clamped around his friend’s arm like a vice. He sent them off with orders to clean themselves up, and stay in the dormitory for the rest of the night. He waited until they were gone to sweep out of the restroom after them, locking the door to save everyone the trauma of finding that mess on their way to the loo. 

 

Quite a few paces ahead of him, both boys were hunched together, whispering as they hurried back to the common room. Draco’s expression was a curious mix of furious and worried, while Potter remained sickly, and almost expressionless. 

 

Something was clearly going on, and Severus had every intention of finding out just what it was. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The day after Halloween was one of those days Harry knew he would never forget, because even with the troll exploding incident the night before, the events of Halloween seemed to pale in comparison to the aftermath that preceded them. 

 

His day started with Draco’s go-to defense when upset, which was to ignore Harry until he was deemed upset enough to forgive, even if he was not the offender in the situation—which he rarely was, let’s face it. Last night, apparently, had been bad for their friendship. Draco had been kind enough to him on their walk back to the dormitory, but as soon as they arrived, and Draco had spotted his hair in the mirror, it was the silent treatment all over again. 

 

And Harry just couldn’t deal with it. He was too tired, too scared, too raw to care about something so small and petty as _hair_. That, and the headmaster had appeared at their table during breakfast, and asked Harry to follow him to his office. 

 

Like he wasn’t stressed enough. 

 

“Please, take a seat,” Dumbledore instructed, gesturing to the two chairs in front of his desk. Harry was surprised, and a bit honored to be invited to his office. Actually, no, he was surprised and a bit terrified. He must have done something much worse than a little ‘renegade’ magic, as Professor Snape said, if he was called to the headmaster’s office itself. 

 

“Tea?”

 

“I—Sorry?” Harry stammered, not sure if he heard correctly while he looked around him. For all his worry, the room was terribly distracting. With its gadgets, grumbling portraits, and shiny, dangerous looking things everywhere he looked.

 

“I was offering you tea, Harry,” Dumbledore repeated, giving him a warm smile. It was strange, him calling Harry by his first name. Of course, everyone knew who he was, he was Harry Potter, baby who lived, or what not. But most people still referred to him by his last name, especially his teachers. It was… oddly discerning. 

 

“No thank you, sir,” replied Harry, unable to keep himself from pulling at the hem of his sleeves. “If I may—why am I here, sir?” 

 

Rather than answering, the man continued to make his tea in cheerful silence, adding nearly ten cubes of sugar before taking a great, big gulp and letting out a pleased sigh.

 

“Ah, that’s the only way to drink Oolong tea,” he hummed, placing his cup down and finally focusing on Harry once again. He seemed amused, but in a way, it seemed fake to Harry. He has been around Draco long enough to recognize the way the humor on his face didn’t quite fill his eyes, but made them seem glassy with it. Like a shiny film, laying over something less pleasant. “I was told a strange story last night, and i’m afraid I arrived too late to the scene to gather enough information to come to formulate an opinion for myself.” 

 

Harry pulled harder at his sleeves, and swallowed the angry hornets nest of terror climbing up his throat. He didn’t even know where to begin. 

 

“I feel I must first apologize to you for our failure to keep you and your friends safe,” the headmaster continued, putting a hand up to stop Harry from interjecting. “Now, now, let me apologize for mistakes we have made, and assure you that it shan’t happen again. I will, however, ask you to tell me the exact moment you realized you could not use your wand.”

 

Harry was horribly sure he was about to vomit all over the headmaster’s nice carpet at this point, his nerves knotting up his stomach to the point of pain. _How_ had he figured it out? He and Draco were so careful, never meeting in the same place twice in a row, never speaking of it, never using his magic when anyone else was around… except last night, of course. But he couldn’t see Hermione ratting him out, especially when all she saw was one spell—or rather, one ‘not-a-spell’. There was no way she could have drawn the right conclusion from that, she was smart, she would need more evidence. And Draco… no, he would never tell on him, no matter how angry he got about his ruined hair. (Which was just fine this morning, honestly.)

 

 

Harry decided to hedge the question, “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

 

“Harry, you used a rather advanced spell last night, and, from what I heard, without words or wand.”

 

“I didn’t use a spell, I didn’t—“ 

 

“You _did_ ,” Dumbledore corrected, flashing another patient smile. “I know the difference between a coordinated—ah—explosion, and a burst of unruly magic. Tell me, Harry, have you heard of the spell, ‘ _Confringo_ ’?” 

 

“N-no, sir…” 

 

“Ah, I see. So no one has mentioned the name, or what the spells does? Not, perhaps, Professor Quirrell, or Professor Snape?” 

 

Thinking back for a moment, Harry tried to remember anyone mentioning exploding things, or the name of the spell. The closest thing he could think of was Neville Longbottom making his potion explode, and he had a feeling that wasn’t related.   
  
“No, I don’t remember anyone talking about it,” he answered at last, and for a moment, Harry thought he saw a flash of anger in Dumbledore’s eyes, before they reverted, once again, to their twinkly state. It was enough to properly disturb him, though, and Harry decided to keep a much closer eye on the headmaster’s expressions from here on out. “I will admit… that I haven’t been able to use my wand in some time, not since I first got it, actually.” 

 

Peering past his steepled hands, Dumbledore silently nodded for him to go on.

 

“Well, I guess the professors have probably noticed that iv’e been having trouble, by now,” Harry continued, almost glad to let it all out. Maybe Dumbledore could help him. “I’ve tried to make it work in every class we use them in, and nothing happens. Draco was the one who—oh… _Oh_ , please don’t punish him for keeping it a secret, please, he was only trying to—“

 

Dumbledore interrupted him with a chuckle, and a shake of his head. “Do not worry about your friend, Harry, he did a good thing, helping you.”

 

“Well—how did you know he helped me?”

 

“That’s what friends do,” Dumbledore replied, another sneaky smile playing across his face. Harry really wished he’d stop doing that, it wasn’t reassuring, it was… weird. Especially when he wasn’t getting a single, straight answer. 

 

Pulling himself together, Harry went on, feeling awkward, “Erm, well, yes, he did help me out. He’s the one who figured out that I can’t really use my wand, but I still can use magic. He’s been helping me practice, so that when I wave my wand, it looks like it’s working normally.”

 

“And, I presume, this has been productive, thus far?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Some spells seem to get stuck when I hold my wand, and speak the words. Like… I can’t fool it into working on its own, while waving my wand. That probably doesn’t make sense, but I don’t know how else to describe it, sir.”

 

 

“It makes perfect sense, Harry—“ _And there he goes with the name again_ , “—but I think it’s time we moved on to a more qualified tutor.” 

 

Harry didn’t like the sound of that, not one bit. Practicing magic was one of the few secrets he and Draco shared, and he didn’t trust anyone else quite as much. 

 

“I—couldn’t I keep practicing with Draco?” he asked, hopeful. 

 

Dumbledore’s expression grew more solum as he spoke, “I’m afraid that’s not the best option anymore, Harry. After seeing what your magic can do, I think we both can agree that it would be safer, for both you and Draco, if you worked with someone more proficient with wandless magic.”

 

“But, what if I learned from them, and then practiced with Draco?” Harry asked, willing to beg, if need be. “I mean, after I’ve gotten better at it, of course.”

 

The fingers were back up, pressed together in front of Dumbledore’s face as he studied him for a long time. The room never really fell silent, though, a constant, dull murmur always in the background, even when they spoke. It made the hairs on Harry’s arms prick up, and it wasn’t much help with his already-shot nerves. He needed a good lie-down after all this… wait, he still had a meeting with Snape tonight, then a detention, and homework—oh god, he still had so much homework. 

 

“We shall see how it goes,” Dumbledore spoke, at last. “I believe you have a meeting with the head of your house this evening?” 

 

Harry nodded, dreading where this was going. He couldn’t possibly mean… Snape _hated_ him! 

 

_He did buy you a broom, though._

 

_Shush_ , Harry thought to himself. 

 

“Ah, then you and Professor Snape can discuss a good time to begin your wandless magic studies tonight, then.” 

 

Yep, Harry was doomed. 

 

 

 

 

Several hours of Draco-silence later, Harry found him standing outside of Snape’s office, glaring at the floor. He hadn’t even noticed Harry approaching yet, being too busy kicking at a crooked stone with his usual pout. His bad mood seemed to have re-set itself sometime during lunch, and now Harry had no idea what he was even upset about anymore. Had he done something else? Did someone else do something to Draco? 

 

“Hello,” he tried, stopping a few steps away from blonde. He got Draco’s attention, anyway, but Harry was starting to wonder if that was a good thing, after all.

 

“I’m not speaking to you,” Draco snapped, and turned his glare back to the stone floor. Harry just sighed, and leaned against the opposite wall, purposefully keeping his head down so Draco couldn’t see how upset this was making him. It felt like, if Draco knew, if he saw, somehow the boy would win. Harry was sick of him winning all their arguments, especially when the exploding troll had been an _accident_. 

 

He was saved—okay, perhaps not ‘saved’—by Professor Snape opening the door, and ushering them inside with a silent sneer. Neither of them were offered a stool to sit on, or tea, but Harry would only be more unnerved if Snape began acting nice, anyway. 

 

“You both know why you’re here, and what this entails,” Snape began, looming behind his desk with his typical scowl growing deeper by the second. Clearly, he knew about Dumbledore’s plan for Snape to teach him, and was just as unhappy about it as Harry. 

 

“Detention, this Friday, midnight.”

 

Draco groaned in protest, but fell silent when Snape’s eyes narrowed on him. Harry had been meaning to ask several times now, why Professor Snape had a strange power over Draco, in ways no other teacher had. It was almost like… well, like when his aunt would narrow her eyes at him. The scary family member glare, maybe. Were the ‘Snape’s and ‘Malfoy’s the same family? Harry had no idea how the whole pureblood stuff worked. 

 

“As for your little practice sessions, those will end, now,” Snap continued, inciting another unhappy sound from the blonde, and nothing from him. He had already known, and if Draco hadn’t spent the entire day ignoring him, he would have known, too. Still, it was nice to know that Draco was disappointed that they were no longer allowed to work together. 

 

“But,” Draco began, “Harry needs—“

 

“A professional, Draco,” Snape finished for him, his voice sharp. “I will be taking over his tutelage from here on out, and if I catch wind of either of you practicing without my express permission, you will have more than detention to worry about.” 

 

“Of course, sir,” Harry murmured, earning himself a flash of surprise on his professor’s features, and a look of betrayal from Draco. He was just too tired to care, right now.What was done was done. 

 

“I see I’m understood,” Snape drawled, sounding way too satisfied for comfort. “Off you go, then, and Potter, I will look over your schedule and decided what times we shall study.”

 

 “Yes, sir.”

 

Snape gave him one last strange look, before Harry ducked behind Draco’s fleeing back, and left the office behind him. 

 

Two minutes, and half a corridor of stomping and grumbling, Draco stopped in his tracks, and spun around to face Harry.

 

“You didn’t even argue with him!” he yelled.

 

“Wha—Draco, the headmaster himself said—“

 

“And since when did you meet with the headmaster, anyway?!”

 

“This afternoon, during lunch? Harry answered, shrinking back from Draco’s anger. 

 

“I didn’t even see you at—“

 

“Because you’ve been ignoring me!” Harry cried out at last, something snapping inside of him. “You’ve been treating me like dirt all day, for something you _know_ I have no control over. It’s unfair, It’s—it’s just _mean_!” 

 

Draco took a step back, startled by Harry’s outburst. But Harry was so done. He had work to do, and enough was enough. Maybe Hermione would be his friend instead, she seemed nice, for a 

Gryffindor.

 

“…Harry…” Draco tried, reaching for him tentatively. Harry brushed his hand away, and took another step back from him, shaking his head. 

 

“No, Draco. _No_. I need… I have too much to do right now to keep playing your game.”

 

“Harry, I didn’t mean to—“

 

But Harry cut him off, “Yes you did. You _did_ mean to, you’re not stupid enough to let things get out of hand. I know you planned this to play out exactly how you wished it to, with me waiting for your forgiveness, and you swooping back in just when i’m really starting to fall apart.” 

 

Draco’s expression grew horrified, and Harry still didn’t care. He knew what he had been doing. 

 

 

“Well guess what, Draco?” he said, hating how exhausted he sounded. “I’m not falling apart over this, so don’t bother.”

 

“W-what?” Draco sputtered, and it was the first time Harry had ever heard him sound so unsure, so crushed. “No, Harry, please don’t be like this. I promise I won’t do it again. You’re my best friend!”  

 

Harry slowly blinked at him, and shook his head. This really was the perfect ending to another stupid, horrible day. 

 

“No, Draco, i’m not. Not anymore.”

 

And with that, he brushed past the blonde—who was frozen in stunned silence—ran the rest of the way back to the dormitory, and hid himself under his blankets without even touching his homework.

 

Somehow, everything that seemed so important, just ten minuted ago, didn’t matter one bit anymore. 

 


End file.
